Play The Tape
by crave-the-rave
Summary: See...it should have been easy. But it wasn't. It really wasn't as his mind thought back to what was exactly on those tapes. But he needed them. Because he couldn't tell him himself. He couldn't relive it again. GrimmIchi AU
1. Tapes?

warning: AU, probable OOC, boyxboy, quite a lot of angst (later chapters), established relationship. But don't let that put you off . Read, if only to tell me how to improve :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...but hey...I've got over it now...so please don't sue..

* * *

Click.

The tape recorder sitting on the desk began to whir.

"So Ichigo...how have you been feeling recently?"

"Recently? How recent? Because this morning I felt shit..." he answered leaning back in his chair.

"Why?"

There was a sigh.

"It's just Grimmjow..."

"The boy you've been telling me about?"

"Yeah...I don't know I just...I think he's pissed off at me,"

"Why do you think that?" The orange haired boy continued to shift in his chair, his eyes looking everywhere but at the man in front of him, but despite it all he was quite relaxed. After all he'd been coming here for years...

"Well at breakfast this morning he was acting...pretty weird I guess. Not really talking to me and not starting any arguments..."

"So you think he's annoyed at you?"

"Well I just said it didn't I?" the boy said, sounding annoyed. The man was used to this and just scribbled down something in his notebook. The boy, Ichigo, leaned forward in his seat and rested his head on his hands, his elbows on his knees, his brown eyes looking straight into the man's light hazel pair.

"You know I'm lying don't you?" he asked, a scowl appearing on his face, his eyes narrowing. The man just smiled.

"Don't I always Ichigo?" he asked. Ichigo sighed, leaning back once more placing his hands behind his head.

"That's what I hate about you shrinks...think you know it all when really..."

"Just get on with it Ichigo. We've had this conversation many times before. I can practically recite it," the man said smirking. Ichigo's scowl deepened and he muttered something sounding vaguelly obscene, but the man ignored him and sat looking expectantly at the boy. Ichigo gave a dramatic sigh.

"Fine. Whatever. Seen as you know _exactly _when I'm lying I won't bother trying to lie any more you..."

"Ichigo," the man said icily. The orange head rolled his eyes.

"I technically wasn't lying you know...no really! I just didn't tell all of the truth..."

"That's the same as lying Ichigo"

"No it's really not...it's just that I know exactly why Grimm's pissed off at me and I have no idea what to do about it," the boy said, lying back on the long couch dramatically closing his eyes.

"Did you cheat?"

"No," the boys said, eyes snapping open, a look of pure disgust flashing across his face " I would never cheat on anybody, least of all him..."

"Then did you say something?"

"It's exactly that..."

"You said something?"

"No. I didn't say something...more I can't say anything. He wants me to tell him,. We did actually argue this morning, but it was kind of...serious" Ichigo said, lowering his arm, drumming his fingers across the couch, his face changing as he remembered the heated discussion they'd had that morning.

"I see,"

"He wants me to open up to him. To tell him things. He knows I'm not telling him stuff when he mentions my family...he's noticed how I change the subject He wants to know why I come here. But I can't tell him,"

"Because you don't want to?" the man asked, looking up from his spider scrawl handwriting.

"No...I want to tell him. I just can't. I can't actually get the words out. Every time I think about it I freeze up. So I just don't talk about it. It was hard enough telling _you_all that stuff, and I only did that because your a dirty cheat and played a load of mind games instead of letting me open up"

"I see,"

"Will you stop with the 'I see', you obviously don't see or you would have something to say about it," Ichigo said angrily, no longer feeling comfortable lying down. He sat up, hunched over his legs, his eyes drifting to the clock which sat ominously on the desk, each tick louder then the last.

"Ichigo...this is obviously troubling you...you haven't..."

"No I haven't. Not in years. Not once since I met him," Ichigo said firmly. There was an eerie silence as Ichigo watched him scribble something illegible down in his book. Ichigo sat, his fingers automatically buried inside the hem of his T-shirt. He wanted to ask him something but didn't quite know how to phrase it...

"Er..." he began, and almost winced at how shaky it sounded. Why was he nervous? What he wanted to ask was within his rights and should have been incredibly easy. It should have been so easy he should have been able to smile whilst asking it, heck he should have been able to tapdance whilst asking it. But no, here he was stuttering. Stuttering. Ichigo Kurosaki didn't stutter and yet here he was stuttering away. Resisting the urge to shake his head, he plunger forward in his asking.

"Could I borrow the tapes?"

See...it should have been easy. But it wasn't. It really wasn't as his mind thought back to what was exactly on those tapes.

"The tapes?" the man asked, looking up pushing his glasses back onto his nose with a slender finger.

"Yeah...I know you record some of our sessions for reference and stuff...could I borrow them?" Ichigo asked, looking everywhere but at the man.

"You want to borrow the tapes?" the man asked again, smirking slightly.

"Yes, let me borrow the fucking tapes!" Ichigo growled. His patience was bareley existent and wore thin quite rapidly.

"Dare I ask why?" the man said silkily. Ichigo grit his teeth and tried to think of happy thoughts...anything but the infuriating man before him.

"I want to play them to Grimmjow," he said, still through grit teeth. The mans eyes lit up for a second.

"Ah...I see now," Ichigo resised the urge to face palm.

"Well I'm glad you see now," Ichigo said angrily. He was pissed off that this had taken twice the time he had expected. But then again the shrink before him relished in the thought of winding him up like a coiled spring and watching as he exploded. Aizen seriously needed to get laid. Yes Aizen Sosuke, 26, psychiatrist. Bit of a bastard, but knew what he was doing.

"So instead of telling him yourself, you'll play him the tapes," the man, Aizen stated, scribbling speed increasing rapidly.

"Yes!" Ichigo said, getting aggitated.

"But it will still be you telling him...just on the tapes," Aizen continued, ignoring Ichigo's expression, his eyes never once leaving the notebook.

"Yes," Ichigo repeated. There was a short silence.

"There are allot of tapes,"

"Thank you for stating the obvious, but there is also allot of time," Ichigo said, feeling the need to clarify that yes, time was something that didn't really end. Aizen flicked open the book and began writing on a new page.

"So you'll play him a tape a night," Aizen stated.

"Er...sure, why not," Ichigo said thinking it through.

"You've thought long and hard about this," Aizen said, actually pausing in his writing to look at Ichigo. Ichigo just nodded.

"It's the only way," he said. And it was true in a way.

Ichigo couldn't bring himself to tell Grimmjow what had happened. It had taken him so long to get over that he really didn't feel like reliving it...again.

"Are you sure you want to expose your boyfriend to it this way?" Aizen asked.

"Er..."

"Are you sure you don't want to tell him now, as you are instead of making him hear what you were like immediately after, during which your mental state was anything but healthy?"

"Well..."

"Are you posistive it's a good idea to make the man you love listen to you as you describe every single detail of what happened during that time?"

"He asked for it!" Ichigo said, interrupting the man in his guilt-trip. Aizen merely raised an eyebrow. Ichigo took it as a sign.

"He said so this morning. He said that it wasn't that I couldn't say it, just that I couldn't say it to him. He started laying into me about how I couldn't trust him and how he didn't give a shit what it was, just that he wanted to know," Ichigo said quickly, pressing his fingers together, not particularly wanting to remember what they'd 'discussed' that morning.

"Does he have any idea what could have happened?" Aizen asked. Ichigo shrugged.

"I think he thinks it was something like a car crash," he said. Aizen nodded.

"But we both know...it wasn't,", his writing slowing as he bagan to think.

"If only," Ichigo scoffed "If it was a crash I wouldn't be here,"

"But then you I would be denied the pleasure of you company Ichigo," Aizen said smirking. Ichigo ignored him. He'd done this too many times before.

"When can I have the tapes?" Ichigo asked. Aizen put on his calculating face.

"They're filed away in my database, but I could get your earlier sessions back to you for Monday," Aizen said. Ichigo nodded. That was in two days. He could last two days without Grimmjow breaking up with him on trust issues...hopefully. He'd just explain it to him. He laughed inwardly. If anyone should be having trust issues it was him...

"Could I borrow your tape player as well...I don't have one," Ichigo asked almost cautiously. Aizen smirked.

"Why don't you have your own?" he asked.

"Because I'm not in the last century...can't you record it onto a computer?" Ichigo asked, eyebrows furrowed. He'd always wondered that, but it was rare that they talked about anything like that during his sessions.

"But you are my only patient Ichigo so what point would there be in that...why? Do you want me to have your voice stored on my computer?" Aizen asked. Ichigo shook his head.

"Forget I asked, " he said. His eyes strayed to to the clock. 4.35. They were five minutes over, but as Aizen had said, he was his only patient so three wouldn't be a line of mentally disturbed patients waiting outside the room.

"Yes Ichigo you may leave...but be sure to come by on Monday for those tapes," Aizen said, waving his hand in the vague direction of the door. Ichigo hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and left, just as Aizen clicked stop on the tape. The orange head heard the older man take it out as he left. The door swung shut with a slam and Ichigo felt his heart rate quicken, but pushed down the flush and feelings of anxiety. He concentrated on his footsteps as he walked past the desk waving at the receptionist and concentrating on his breathing.

He knew there was no reason to feel like this, no reason to feel like he was on stage, being watched by everyone in the empty street, but none the less he did. He too pride in the fact that a year ago he wouldn't have been able to leave his flat. It was funny that six years ago he would have fought tooth and nail to get out of his house, to leave that...

His eyes shot to the lamp post as it flickered slightly in the dark, and his pace immediately quickened. He forced himself to think of what would happen when he arrived home. Home. That word once so foreign to him was now one of the best words in his life. He ignored the distant sound of bins being moved and gripped hi bag tighlty, his knuckles turning white. Just think of home. Think of Grimmjow. Grimmjow will be at home, sitting in front of the T.V laughing at some random comedy, or scowling at the outcome of a match. Just think of that, not the fact that you're alone in a deserted street.

He thanked god when he arrived at his shared flat and swung open the door, warmth immediately engulfing him. Hanging his bag up on the hooks on the wall he walked into the small living room, rubbing his hands.

"Home," he said. His boyfriend Grimmjow sat on the sofa watching the match. Grimmjow. Sitting there in loose jeans that were hastily tied with a belt and a crumpled T-shirt, but still looking hot as the first day Ichigo saw him. And for the record, it was pretty hot. Ichigo slumped down next to him, sprawling his legs over the others. Grimmjow shifted to accommodate the weight.

"Who's winning?" Ichigo asked, turning slightly to see the screen. Grimmjow shrugged.

"They're both shit," he said distastefully. Ichigo watched the players for a minute before deciding that yes, they were pretty shit. Ichigo moved slightly as Grimmjow reached over for the control, brushing against his arm before pulling back with a hiss.

"Jesus Ichi your freezing," he said leaning back and looking at Ichigo questioningly. Ichigo shrugged.

"Forgot my coat," he said sitting up. He felt Grimmjow place his arm around his shoulders and Ichigo moved closer to the heat. So far was good. So far no serious arguments.

"How was your day?" he asked. He it civil keep it short. He felt Grimmjow shrug.

"Same old. That bastard Ulquiorra made me work late though, said it was because of my attitude towards customers," he said though gritted teeth. Ichigo could feel his deep voice rumbling through his chest as he leaned against it. He scoffed.

"And I'm sure it had _nothing_to do with you shouting at customers at all Grimm," he said sarcastically. It seemed to go straight over the 19 year olds head.

"Damn straight. They had it coming with all there orderin' me about," Grimmjow said angrily, his grip tightening on Ichigo's shoulder. Ichigo just chuckled slightly.

"Grimm you work in a store serving customers. Of course their gonna tell you to do stuff," he said. Grimmjow just huffed.

"Whatever," he said, dismissing all argument.

"So how was your...talk...thing," Grimmjow asked, and Ichigo could feel the awkwardness seep through.

"It was alright. Nothing amazing happened but nothing amazing ever does," he said. There was a silence.

"Look...Ichi..." Grimmjow began. Ichigo sighed. He knew it had been coming, he'd just not thought as soon as he'd walked through the door.

"This morning I said some things..."

"Yeah you said some things. How could I miss them when they were being screamed into my ear," Ichigo said, the words coming out before he could stop them. He felt the arm removed from his back and the cold hit him.

"Let me fucking speak!" Grimmjow said, his temper flaring. It was then that Ichigo knew he'd made a mistake. A pretty big mistake at that. He'd initiated an argument, the one thing he'd been trying to stop.

"Fine then, speak!" he shouted, standing up. Grimmjow stood up pretty sharpish as well, looking down at the 18 year old. Ichigo saw that he was refraining from hitting him by the way his teeth were grit so hard he could practically hear them grinding.

"You know what...let's just stop this okay? We had enough this morning to last a lifetime," Ichigo said bitterly.

"So you start it and now you just want to walk away? Fine then walk away from your fucking problems," Grimmjow said snarling. Where had the happy atmosphere gone?

"Stop! Just stop..." Ichigo said, slumping onto sofa, head in hands.

"This is too complicated...lets just.."

"Forget about it? Hell no Ichigo, we're sorting this out now," Grimmjow said. Ichigo nearly winced at the lack of petname. 'Ichigo' said in that way by Grimmjow, like he was disgusted with him, made him feel cold..

"Fine. Just...fine," Ichigo said, rubbing his temples. Arguments always gave him a headache...he just hoped it stayed a headache and didn't turn into a migraine. The flashing lights in the corner of his eyes were practically screaming at him to take some painkiller.

"Well then...you start," he said, gesturing for Grimmjow to sit next to him. The teal haired man did, albeit rather stiffly.

"Ichigo...why the fuck can't you tell me what happened to you, and don't you dare deny it. You wouldn't see a fucking shrink if nothing had happened," Grimmjow said quietly, but still full of anger. Ichigo sighed.

"I can't..."

"That is the most pathetic answer I've ever heard Ichi," Grimmjow said, scowling. Ichigo was happy that the pet name had been revived. It was just a shame it was attached to an insult.

"Just...just listen okay?" he asked, looking through his fingers at his boyfriend. He took the silence as a cue to continue.

"I'm not going to tell you, DON'T say a word," Ichigo said at Grimmjow's open mouth, no doubt to retort back. He waited until it closed before he continued.

"BUT," he said, stressing the word "you will find out...on Monay," he added as an afterthought. If Grimmjow's confused facial expression was anything to go by he hadn't explained very well.

"You can listen to the tapes," he said.

"Tapes?" the other man asked, sounding confused.

"Yeah, from my sessions with Aizen..."

"He keeps tapes of you?" Grimmjow asked sounding suspicious.

"He assures me it's for professional reason's," Ichigo said, rolling his eyes. There was a silence. Ichigo looked at his boyfriend feeling slightly nervous at the lack of movement.

"Grimm?" he asked. The teal haired man didn't move.

"It's bad isn't it,"

There was silence as Ichigo took in what his boyfriend had just said.

"What happened to you...it's bad,"

Ichigo didn't know how to reply.

"Yeah," he said softly. Grimmjow finally moved allowing Ichigo to see his face.

"Shit Ichi..."

Ichigo yet again had no idea what to say. What can you say to that?

"Look..." he looked up as Grimmjow started to speak again "no matter what happened...I just...I want you..." his boyfriend said, obviously struggling. Ichigo smiled crookedly and decided to cut him some slack.

"Yeah I get it," he said. His boyfriend looked relieved.

They both sat on the sofa, the silence stretching between them. It was always like this after an argument...awkward. Ichigo decided on an easy conversation starter.

"So how do you think Ulquiorra's going to act when he find out that you put the closed sign up four hours early?" he said smirking. He saw Grimmjow visibly relax, a cocky smirk appear on his face instead of the confused one he'd been wearing seconds before.

"That little shit? Well..."

* * *

As Ichigo lay in bed, his head in the crook of Grimmjow's arm he thought about it. How it had all began. When his father had met her.

Ayako Hayashi.

tbc.

* * *

review? advise? first bleach here...help?

Woot! Okay people...few thing to say here XD first, this is a little side project thing...so it's got a vague plot. Basically I thought...'what if Isshin had decided, for the good of his children, to find a mother figure?' then I thought...what if she were incredibly jealous....okay I'm giving alot away here...but it will include an OC....sorry :( I usually hate them but I honestly can't think of anyone from bleach who could have been around when Ichigo was 11...for the purposes I want anyway...

But first thing first:

should I continue???

Second:

was it okay? no?

if people want it continued then it will become a fully fledged fic...GrimmIchi of course...and if so then there may be lemon's and whatnot if they don't distract from the plot. And yeah if it's not obvious because of the warning and the chapter its AU...and pretty OOC...but I have my reasons :0 tbh this chapter isn't particulary good...if people want it continued other chapters will be longer and muchos better :)

woah this was a long authors note...review? I'll love you...and er...please no flames...if you have criticism then please express it (I really need help improving my style) but if you just want to write about it being 'GAAAYZZ'...er...just please don't ^^


	2. Tape one

warning: AU, probable OOC, boyxboy, quite a lot of angst in this chapter, established relationship. But don't let that put you off . Read, if only to tell me how to improve :) If this seems a bit confusing don't worry...all questions will be answered in the long run.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...but hey...I've got over it now...so please don't sue..

* * *

"So I see your here for the tapes Ichigo,"

"Er...yeah,"

Ichigo stood, half in, half out the office. The man in front of him, Aizen, was sitting calmly at his desk sipping from a steaming mug of god-knows-what, his glasses slipping down his nose ever so slightly. He pushed them back up with a smirk before placing his mug down and his elbows on the desk.

"So you are definitely sure that you want to do this then Ichigo?" Aizen asked him.

Ichigo nodded. Yes. He was definitely sure. He'd talked it through with Grimmjow...well sort of, and it was all planned. Well, relatively planned. Ichigo would play the tape to Grimmjow and they'd deal with the aftermath when it came. No point worrying about it until it had happened. True he was sort of regretting his 'tape' idea. It _could_go horribly wrong. And the more Ichigo thought about it, the worse an idea it had become. He'd thought it through thoroughly, but after rethinking it, there did seem to be quite a few faults. It was too late to back out now though.

"Well the I'll just get the key then," Aizen said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a brass key. Ichigo felt his eyes narrow.

"A key?" he asked. Aizen smirked.

"The key to my drawer," he said, gesturing to the mahogany desk which on further inspection yes, did have a drawer.

"Yeah, whatever, " Ichigo said, his hand coming to rest across his other arm unconsciously as his eyes automatically glanced over to the window.

"Don't you want to come in?" Aizen said, smirking slightly at Ichigo's in-out predicament. Ichigo wasn't so sure he wanted to enter, but shrugged any way and taking one last glance out the door, shut it behind him. He came to stand awkwardly in front of the desk where Aizen was in the process of opening the lock of the drawer.

"How long does it take?" he retorted quietly, automatically, feeling himself become angry at the man before him.

"How long do you think Ichigo?" the man said looking straight at the teen, the drawer opening with a click. Ichigo watched with baited breath as he pulled out...a box.

"The tape is in the box," Aizen said as if reading Ichigo's mind. Ichigo snorted. He wouldn't put it past the man to put the tapes in a box... that was in another box which was in another box and so on until the man had run out of boxes. Yeah, that would be Aizen alright.

"The box doesn't seem big enough," Ichigo said scowling sceptically. Aizen smirked, leaning back in his chair.

"It is more then large enough to accomodate a tape Ichigo," he said.

"A tape...I thought I was getting all of the tapes?" Ichigo said, beginning to grow agitated at the man who just sat there smirking at him.

"Not at once. I have selected the first tape, the first recorded session, the session where you begin to actually talk. The first three sessions were unrecorded and rather useless for obvious reasons... plus you refused to co-operate during them. However, on this occasion you snapped and told us the first time you met..."

"Okay, okay, whatever," Ichigo said, talking the box and shoving it awkwardly into his shoulder bag. He didn't want to hear her name even now.

"I need to borrow a tape player," he said, not bothering to ask. He was fully aware that Aizen remembered. He was probably being purposely awkward...as usual.

"Oh yes. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten that small yet rather key detail Ichigo," the man said, smirking. Ichigo's scowl deepened.

"Just give me it," he said sighing heavily. Aizen just smirked and opened his draw again (this time with less flourish). Ichigo barely caught the ancient object as it was flung gracefully in his vague direction. Ichigo stuffed it roughly in his bag and felt his eyes get drawn yet again towards the door.

"Are you leaving now Ichigo?" he heard Aizen ask him and he nodded.

"Yeah, yeah," he said vaguely. He saw the man lean forward once more and could tell, behind his calm exterior, he was itching to grab his pen and paper.

"Are you going back to your boyfriend?" he asked. Ichigo smiled slightly at the thoughts of Grimmjow. He'd left him some pancakes to heat up this morning as an apology of sorts for the arguments. It had near killed him when he'd had to leave their bed that morning, and he'd seriously wished he had had a camera handy at the sight of his 'manly-man' boyfriend, hugging a pillow. Ichigo barely noticed he was chuckling to himself lightly until he was interrupted.

"Fond thoughts?" he heard Aizen ask, breaking him from his day-dream. He felt a bit sheepish having been caught and cleared his throat.

"Er, yeah," he said, not really wanting to divulge the information to the phyciatrist.

"Hmm...yes, keep thinking those fond thoughts tonight," Aizen said making Ichigo feel slightly nervous.

"I'm presuming Grimmjow is prepared for what he will hear?" Aizen asked casually. Ichigo swallowed.

"Yeah. He knows he's listening to a tape from one of our sessions," he said, is eyes darting towards the window. It was shut.

"Does he know what they will contain?" Aizen asked. Ichigo shook his head.

"I thought I'd just leave it to the tapes," Ichigo said, licking his lips nervously.

"Very well. I just hope it all goes to plan...presuming there is a plan?" Aizen asked.

"There's a plan," Ichigo said firmly taking an almost defensive, despite what he felt.

"I was merely asking," Aizen said. There was an awkward silence.

"I'm presuming you need to be going home soon," Aizen said, politely dismissing the teen.

"You presume too much," Ichigo said, turning from the desk and checking his shoulder strap. He took a deep breath and walked to the door. He didn't bother with goodbye's. It was unnecessary.

Walking out of a room was always easier then walking into one (presuming he didn't walk straight into another room). He felt slightly relieved as he left the dim office into the brightly lit hallway leading straight out onto the street. He gave the receptionist a small nod as he passed and concentrated on his breathing as he left the building.

Walking down the street made him feel tense. True, there were many exits, many alleyways and corners for him to use as an escape route. Not that he would run. No it would be more likely for him to lash out in defense should anyone attempt to stop him. The fact was that the alleyways were just that. Alleyways. The stereotypical scene of muggings, rapes and general violence. And that was what made Ichigo slightly tense.

He forced himself to think of happier things then the concrete he walked on, such was his routine: crossing the road should anyone appear and keeping his head down. He'd used to wear his hood permanently up and over his head until Grimmjow insisted he looked like an idiot for doing so (affectionately of course). He fought down a smile at the memory of his boyfriend tackling the hood from his head and insisting his hair was fine. That if anyone thought it was anything but fine they'd answer to him. How he'd whacked him and pretended that it was just his hair he was bothered about. He'd never worn his hood up since though.

He didn't bother pulling out a key, he knew Grimmjow would already be home, watching TV or doing some other random 'manly' thing. Pushing open the door he savoured the warmth from within and shut it awkwardly, his hands numb from the cold.

"I'm home," he shouted into the apartment pausing to sniff the air. Yeah, he could definitely smell burning. A curse from the vague direction of the kitchen confirmed that yes, his boyfriend was indeed cooking. He fought to stop the smile breaking out on his face as he made his way to the small kitchen taking in the sight before him.

His boyfriend he could see was visibly panicking as he held the pan of...well Ichigo couldn't really tell due to the fact it was burnt to a crisp and shrivelled on the edge of the plate. Ichigo contemplated whether or not he should walk over and wrap his arms round the teal haired man, but decided against it. He probably end up being hit with the frying pan. Instead, he decided to voice his presence with a sharp cough. He looked away, watching out of the corner of his eye and hiding a smirk at the sight of the man jumping slightly, then trying to cover rapidly. Yeah. He'd meant to nearly drop the frying pan. It was all part of his plan, Ichigo thought sarcastically.

"I see you tried to cook," Ichigo said, stating the obvious, the smirk still in place. He watched as Grimmjow's eyes narrowed and began to glare at him (probably to hide his embarrassment).

"Shut up," Grimmjow growled, and Ichigo watched as he slammed his foot on the bin lever, pouring the contents inside where they landed (mysteriously enough) with a crunch.

"Could the fact that your cooking have anything to do with what I mentioned yesterday?" Ichigo asked slyly, remembering the conversation oh too well.

"I have no idea what your talking about," his boyfriend replied in a 'drop-it' kind of way. Ichigo's smirk deepened.

"You know, the part of the conversation where you were telling me all about Ulquiorra..."

"Ichi...shut up,"

"...and about how he was starting cooking classes..."

"Ichigo.."

"...and how you found it funny that a guy would bother learning to cook..."

"drop it...,"

"...which was when I mentioned how I thought guys who cooked were pretty hot..."

"seriously shut the hell up..."

"...don't tell me that you actually listened to me for once Grimm?" Ichigo said, leaning back against the counter to look at his boyfriend who was masking his obvious embarrassment with anger. He resisted the urge to laugh. He hadn't seriously thought that he was right about the comment he'd made earlier, but judging from Grimmjow's reactions he was dead on. Only now he felt a bit bad for baiting him.

He walked over to where the older man was now fuming and hoisted himself up onto the bench so that he was about the same height as him (Grimmjow being considerably taller then him...thinking about it alot of the men Ichigo knew were taller then him... it wasn't that he was short, he just seemed to attract the freakishly tall).

"What were you trying to cook?" Ichigo asked, leaning his shoulder against Grimmjow's slightly. He heard a mumbled reply.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I said it was fucking pasta alright," Grimmjow hissed back. Ichigo held back a snigger.

"How did you manage to burn pasta?" he asked. He really had no idea.

"I don't know do I?" Grimmjow said sounding aggravated. Ichigo confirmed this by the fact that he ran his fingers through his hair. He only ever did that when he was excited or stressed, and in this case it was the latter.

"We'll order in tonight then. Does pizza sound alright?" Ichigo asked, receiving a shrug. Sighing he slid off the bench and walked over to the fridge. He peered in.

"Omlette?" he asked.

"Nah, we'll just order in," Grimmjow said.

"You sure? I can cook if you.."

"No. You...look let's just order okay?" Grimmjow said, his fingers never once leaving his hair, their combing leaving four visible trails. Ichigo could tell he was _very _agitated now. He had no idea why though. Was he still pissed off about the cooking? Deciding to ignore the fact his boyfriend was pissed of (possibly at him) he continued as if nothing had happened.

"Aizen gave me the tapes..." he started, hoping to gage a reaction out of the man. There was a simple nod. Ichigo sighed.

"Look if you don't want to listen tonight then..."

"No!" Ichigo was surprised by the other man's Strong reaction "I mean....I want to hear it okay," Grimjow continued, sounding forceful. He didn't sound too sure though, like he was convincing himself. Needless to say this did wonders for Ichigo's nerves.

There was an awkward silence which neither seemed determined to break. Deciding enough was enough, Ichigo walked out into the hall to grab his bag, ignoring the questioning look from his boyfriend. When the man still didn't understand why he was carrying his bag he held it up.

"Tape," he said simply, flicking his finger towards it. Grimmjow just gave him a 'yeah, I knew that' look. Ichigo rolled his eyes and walked into the living room. The T.V was on, the volume down low. Ichigo turned it off and tried to reassure himself. He felt the sofa dip and knew then that Grimmjow was with him, ready.

It was just a tape. Just a tape. None of it was still happening. Life was good. Yeah. He tried to keep thinking those thoughts as he slotted the tape in, as he pushed play and the familiar whirring sound he'd come to hate and accept filled his ears. The voice of his 16 year old self filled his ears. It was...shocking.

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's a tape recorder Ichigo,"

"Why the fuck are you recording this? Who are you going to show? Turn it off...turn it off!"

"Calm down Ichigo. I won't be showing anyone. I explained to you last week, this is so that I can help,"

"Help? Help. How the fuck can you help,"

Ichigo felt his heart grip with a sense of deja-vu, felt his insides squirm as he heard himself from two years previous. He sounded nervous, like a caged animal, each syllable hissed, each word cynical and angry. Like he hadn't needed help, didn't want to be there. And Ichigo could remember feeling exactly that, asking exactly that.

"Why the fuck am I here?"

"You know the answer to that Ichigo,"

"No, if I did I wouldn'ta asked you would I?"

"Fine, then I'll tell you exactly why your here Ichigo. You're here to answer some questions,"

"Questions...fuck that,"

There was the sound of a chair moving and Ichigo could only guess that he'd stood up.

"Sit down Ichigo,"

"Make-me,"

"Where you involved in the death of Ayako Hayashi?"

There was a silence, like the Ichigo from the past had frozen at the name, much like the Ichigo of the present. That name. It conjured up so much for him. So much...

He felt the images almost flood his mind as his past self continued.

"Don't say her name," he heard himself whisper haggardly, and he felt himself almost nod in agreement.

"Why,"

"Because..."

"Because what Ichigo...who was Ayako Hayashi?"

"Stop saying that fucking bitches name!"

"So you disliked her I take it?"

"Disliked her?" Ichigo heard himself laugh, although it sounded more like pain then laughter. "How could I not?"

"When did you first meet her?"

"You really wanna know? My dad introduced her to me..."

"Your father..?"

"yeah. She was supposed to be my new...babysitter..."

* * *

"Ichigo?"

He turned to face his younger sister Yuzu as she handed him her picture shyly. It wasn' t particularly good, but he wasn't about to tell her this.

"Nice job Yuzu," he said, smiling slightly at the way her eyes lit up at the praise. Small kids. So easy to please.

"Hey, why don't you go show Karin?" he asked, hoping she'd take the hint. Being naive as she was, she merely nodded and smiled.

"Okay Ichigo!" she said, before skipping out eagerly. Ichigo felt a small smile tug at his lips again and winced slightly at the bruise still on his cheek. Stupid kid that punched him. He'd punched him back though so it was okay. The bruises across his knuckles were worth it for that kid to stop calling him 'carrot'. Stupid kid.

An eleven year old Ichigo lay back on his bed sighing at the memory. He closed his eyes. It was so hot that he'd been tempted to lie under the sprinkler. It was that kind of hot that even the thinnest of clothes are uncomfortable as they stick to your skin like an extra layer. That was exacty how Ichigo was feeling when he'd heard his father coming up the stairs. Hot, uncomfortable and in an incredibly bad mood. Hearing the thuds, he'd thought it could have possibly been Yuzu, begging him to help her bake cookies or some other sugary item. But then he heard his father, Isshin's voice.

"And this is my eleven year old son Ichigo," the annoying voice said chirpily. Cracking an eye open he looked and around, surpised to see that his dad was not alone. No there was a woman next to him, looking rather nervous, her plain hair tied up messily and her heavily bitten nails digging into her arm. She looked around twenty-six maybe older, and to be honest Ichigo looked straight through her. He saw her, but not realy. She was plain, nothing to brag about in so much that Ichigo just ignored her even being there. She was there for a reason sure, but it sure as hell didn't need to involve him. Closing his eyes he decided to ignore them. That was easy enough to do, until he felt himself be dragged from his bed and dumped unceremoniously in the floor.

"Ichigoooo! Be polite to your new babysitter Ayako Hayashi. Ayako this is Ichigo," that was how she was introduced by his smiling father. Babysitter. Ichigo noticed that neither him nor the new 'babysitter' appeared particularly enthralled by the title, but his father (as usual) was completely oblivious to this. That stupid smile was still plastered on his face like an immovable mask. The only time he could ever remember seeing it gone was when...well when his mother had died. But he didn't particularly want to remember that, so decided instead to concentrate on the woman before him.

"I think you should have some get-to-know-each-other-time," he heard his father say, still smiling before leaving the woman in Ichigo's bedroom. The only thing heard was his ceiling fan which only seemed to fuel the awkward tension.

"Hi," the woman had said to him. Hi. One word and he knew immediately that he disliked her. There was something about her eyes, like they didn't quite match her calm expression, like they were deep and calculating. So he ignored her.

"I'm Ayako Hayashi," she continued, yet Ichigo continued to ignore her. He'd already heard her name, hearing it a second time did nothing for him.

"Whatever," he said. He didn't particularly want to interact with her. There was no real point. He heard her sigh.

"Look, my friend told me your father was talking about the lack of a mother-figure may be bad for your sisters to her, so she reccommended me. So he's hired me," she said with a shrug. That was unexpected and definitely peaked his interests. His uncalled for dislike had finally found a reason to grasp onto. Not only had he no desire to hear her excuses for being here as far fetched as they were, what she had said had angered him.

"A woman figure?" he said sneering slightly. The woman nodded. "well we don't need one," he said finally, getting off his bed and walking towards the door. Pausing he turned to glance back.

"Are we hiring you to clean as well?" he asked. The woman appeared to bite her lip, but nodded. Ichigo nodded before walking out.

That was the first time he ever met Ayako Hayashi, though definately not the last. Within the first week he'd noticed that she was there for around two hours everyday, doing mundane jobs such as cooking small meals and cleaning round the kitchen. That time seemed to increase however. It started out small, with her staying after a meal when his dad arrived home. He remembered when his dad had walked in, looking happy. Not that that was unusual (the man was happy a majority of the day) but that day he had looked especially happy.

"Family!" he'd called out, grabbing 'his beautiful daughters' and twirling them round and attempting to hug his 'strapping young son' only to narrowly avoid being kicked in the head. Ichigo watched the woman out of the corner of his eye, smiling, laghing, longing. The look on her face when Isshin had grabbed her and also pulled her into the 'family hug'.

"Come on Ichigo, join us!" he'd called, opening his free arm. Ichigo shook his head and turned away. The image of the 'happy family' left a bad taste on his tongue, and he hastily began to stab his chicken. He heard a laugh from Isshin and presumed the bonding time had stopped.

"Well I guess I ought to leave," that woman said. Ichigo felt his eyes drift to her, narrowing at the look on her face. He couldn't place it. The chicken stabbing carried on.

"No no, stay! Today calls for celebration" Isshin called out. Ichigo saw the woman stutter and answer before sitting down awkwardly. He watched bitterly as Yuzu tugged on the woman's dress.

"What Yuzu?" she asked, sounding so sickeningly sweet it was...well..sickening. Ichigo stabbed louder, screeching his fork loudly against his plate causing both Yuzu and the woman to look at him. He ignored them and filled his mouth with chicken, chewing defiantly as the scene continued.

"Could you teach me how to cook?" Yuzu asked shyly. Ichigo hated it. It shouldn't be that woman who taught her how to cook. That was...

"That sounds like a great idea!" the smiling happy (annoying) face of Isshin added. Ichigo took deep gulps of water to wash down the chicken. The woman had cooked it too dry.

"Sure then Yuzu," she said smiling. Ichigo stood up with a creak of his chair. All faces turned to look at him.

"I'm done. May I leave the table?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Of course you may son. Leave...leave and do marvelous things..." Ichigo walked out halfway through his father's tirade. He'd rather not hear what marvelous things he could do. He'd rather study and hope to never see that woman again.

No such look. He saw her waiting for him from his classroom window and felt a spark of anger flow though him. Why was she here? He was eleven. He hardly needed someone to walk him home from school. It was barely two blocks away. Yuzu and Karin had an after school club (which _he _would be picking them up from) so the woman was obviously here for him. Some stupid kid noticed his line of sight.

"Hey berry, are you being picked up from school?" the kid taunted. Ichigo decided to ignore him. He was hardly worth getting into a fight over. He only ever fought when they attacked first. He just continued to glare at the awkward looking mousy woman who was stood by the school gates, oblivious to the fact she was being glared, pointed and laughed at. Ichigo would have felt sorry for her, but yet again her eyes flashed into his head. The lack of real emotion in them...scared him to be honest. It was like looking into the eyes of a machine. So Ichigo watched as others in the class ridiculed the woman.

"Why are you here?! he asked, the first words through his lips as he saw her. She just gave him a strained smile.

"I thought we should get to know each other...Isshin thought it would be a good idea," since when did she call him Isshin. Mr Kurosaki. That was the correct term. Why was she calling him by his first name.

"Well he's wrong," Ichigo said rudely. He wanted nothing to do with her, and hoped the feeling would become mutual.

Safe to say the walk home was awkward and silent, him walking at a fast pace ahead of her, almost jogging and her walking slowly, dragging behind.

He'd decided to talk it out with his dad. His dad was an idiot, but could become serious when he wanted to be. Ichigo only hoped he'd be taken seriously.

"I don't like her," he said, crossing his arms across his chest and looking up at the man, scowl fixed in place. And what did his dad do? Laughed. Laughed and ruffled his hair.

"Nonsense son. What's not to like?" he said. Ichigo felt his anger grow slightly, and didn't bother keeping it in check.

"Everything. She's...she's trying to replace her..." he said angrily. He didn't even need to say it. Isshin knew exactly who he meant.

"Ichigo...no one will ever replace your mother you know," his father said, sounding serious. It was a rare occasion.

"She doesn't know that," Ichigo retorted. Isshin let out another laugh. There. Serious moment over. Ichigo felt his hair ruffled again.

"Ayako doesn't like me like that at all son. She's young and I'm old. I can guarantee that she doesn't like me...besides Masaki is the only woman for me..." Ichigo decided to leave before his father went off on one and walked out the room. No doubt his old man was going to be talking to his life size Masaki poster for a while (one of the mans unusual quirks).

So Ichigo had decided to give it a rest. He'd decided to ignore it all and keep his distance. He'd _decided _that, but when he'd heard noises coming from his father's bedroom, he instead decided to investigate.

As he walked nearer he'd heard her voice, a soft harsh whisper coming from the bedroom, and he presumed she was merely on the phone. Well that was what he'd hoped. It would have been near to impossible for him to have walked away at that point. Who knew what she could be up to in there (he may have decided to keep his distance, but his suspicions were still there). Besides, what harm could it do? Creeping over to the sliding door, he'd pressed his ear against it until the faint humming became clear words.

"...bitch. You can't have him you know. You know that? Your dead. You dead so you can't have him..."

Ichigo felt his heart jump into his throat. He felt anger course through his veins, and felt his fists clench automatically at the words. His nails dug deep into his skin leaving small white craters as he unclenched them. She couldn't. There was no way that she could be talking about that...to that?

And yet there she was. Ichigo barely remembered pulling back the door, but there she was.

Ayako Hayashi.

Talking to his mother's portrait.

Talking to his mother's portrait with such disrespect...it made Ichigo want to attack her then and there. This woman, this bitch had no right to talk to his mother like that. She hadn't known her, never would, had no_ idea _of how..how amazing she was. How much it had torn him up inside when she'd died. How much he'd tried to forget about it all. How..she had no idea. And there she was. Talking to her like that. About his dad. His naive dad. His dad who had no idea who he had hired.

Ichigo snapped out of his inner thoughts to a sharp sound. It sounded like a snap, like someone had broken something across their knee. It made him jump and he looked up to stare straight into the eyes of the woman. He looked up at her and knew deep down that he'd never be able to take her on. She had an advantage in not only age but also height. Did he care? No. Bracing himself to run forwards, he was shocked when she moved first, almost like lightning, grabbing the hem of his T-shirt and slamming him round into the wall, pinning him there with her stubby fingers.

He merely looked up at her, still angry but panic lacing the edges of his anger. The panic began to gather as he took her in fully. Her expression...well what expression. Her jaw was set, her eyes glinting yet no sign of anger. He stance wasn't even particularly defensive, her hands were merely at his throat like it wasn't a particularly big deal. He felt her release him and he slid down the wall slightly. He looked up hesitently, but felt his head whip to the right sharply, his cheek stinging, burning almost, unwanted and unnecessary tears forming at the corners of his eyes. It was at that moment that he realised many things. One, he'd just been slapped by Ayako Hayashi. Two, the woman had to be mentally unbalanced. And three, his cheek felt like it had been whipped with a hot poker.

Still reeling from the blow, he felt himself hoisted up again.

"You won't be telling your father this..." she whispered, holding his face, forcing him to look at her. He still had his pride so he refused to answer her. He wasn't stupid though, so he did nothing as defiant as spitting in her face. He just watched, fighting down the trembles as the adrenaline left his body leaving him shaken.

"You know how I know you wont be telling your father any of this?" the woman asked him again, malice hidden under fake sweetness. He did nothing.

"Because, I can hurt your sisters," those words hurt more then the physical blow. His sisters. Naive and innocent Yuzu, stubborn and persistent Karin. The thoughts of...it was like ice had slid down his spine immobilising him. Nothing made sense. All he knew was that she could hurt his sisters.

He felt himself released once more and heard the woman leave.

He just sat there, eyes half open. He just sat there trying not to think.

* * *

"...so she hit you did she Ichigo?" Aizen's voice penetrated though Ichigo's thoughts and he felt himself be pulled out of his memories. He'd hoped never to relive those moments. His hands were still shaking.

The Ichigo on the tape didn't reply. There was the sound of scratching pens.

"Was that the last time she hit you Ichigo?" there was a moment's silence.

"No," the answer was quiet, unsure, like the past Ichigo was afraid of what could happen should he admit it. Present Ichigo almost flinched at the sound.

"Ichigo..."

"No...I don't want to say anything else,"

"Should we meet next week?" the question was rhetorical. Ichigo knew then and he knew now that he had appointments everyweek. There was no negotiation.

"Yes," he heard himself answer anyway.

"Well then Ichigo I'll..."

"Turn off the tape,"

"Very well Ichigo.."

The tape stopped. The sound didn't though, the whirring and white noise still leaking through until Ichigo pushed the stop button with a shaky finger. There was silence.

"Shit," Ichigo didn't look up. He didn't need to. He knew who the voice belonged to. Grimmjow. He'd forgotten about him, too wrapped up in his own memories.

"Shit, shit shit," Ichigo continued to ignore him "I knew it would be something like this...shit...I knew..."

Ichigo just sat, arms crossed, head down. He was well aware he was trembling, and he was well aware that he looked weak. Nervous. All the things he strove to over come. But at that moment it was one of the furthest things from his mind.

He should have known. Known it would be a bad idea. The cons should have outweighed the pros. But he listened to it anyway, and had to relive it anyway.

His boyfriend (at long last) seemed to notice his lack of reaction.

"Ichi?" Grimmjow sounded unusually hesitant. His normally cocky, charming yet oh so endearing voice sounded unsure. Ichigo felt a warm arm wrap round his back and rub his shoulder slightly. After what felt like hours, he composed himself enough to lift his head and look into the other man's eyes. He noticed the concern was immediately masked, but not completely.

"Sorry," Ichigo mumbled, tearing his eyes away. Grimmjow seemed confused and Ichigo glanced up at his expression. His eyebrows were furrowed and confusion was definitely evident.

"What for?"

Ichigo shrugged.

"I should have just told you," he muttered. There was a silence. Ichigo could practically hear the cogs grinding in the teal haired man's brain as he thought of a suitable answer.

"Yeeeeah...but knowing you you'd 'ave cut bit's out right?"

Ichigo looked up.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Grimmjow shrugged and leaned back, Ichigo automatically leaning with him.

"Well, you'd 'ave left out all the bad bits...I mean you woulda told the truth, but you'd water it down. Am I right?" Grimmjow said smirking slightly. Ichigo shrugged.

"Least this way I get the whole story," Grimmjow said, sounding like he was trying to reason. Ichigo swallowed. His throat seemed to have dried up during the listening.

"I mean, unless you don't wanna listen," Grimmjow said sounding serious, as if realising something. His expression was stern and calculating. Ichigo shook his head slightly.

"No...it's alright I guess. It's just been a while since I thought about how it all started ya know?" he said sighing deeply.

"How many tapes are there?" Grimmjow asked. Ichigo shrugged.

"Dunno. It's up to Aizen really. He's seemed to have appointed himself controller of the tapes," Ichigo said. This was good. Things were becoming light again. Friendly. _Normal._

Grimmjow snorted.

"Grimm...can you promise me something..." Ichigo asked. No matter how corny or cheesy or god knows what this sounded he needed to say it.

"What?" Grimmjow said, sounding suspicious.

"I've forgotten what's exactly on these tapes. But I have a pretty good idea. I just want you to promise that you...you won't see me any differently," Ichigo said looking down. His face was conveniently hidden from view by his hair.

"Yeah..I promise," Grimmjow said. Well, he sounded sincere. Ichigo let out a sigh of relief. If there was one thing that Grimmjow did it was keep is promises.

"I promise I will forever see you as the annoying brat I first saw in highschool," he also had a knack of ruining romantic moments. Ichigo hit him on his leg.

"Shut up," he said, hiding his smirk. Damn him. He always knew exactly what to say.

"Anyway when can I hear the other tapes?" Grimmjow asked, sounding vaguely solemn.

"Like I said. Up to Aizen," Ichigo said, giving him a pointed look.

"look. Ichigo. These tapes..." Grimmjow started. Ichigo sighed. He knew what he was going to ask.

"Did you enjoy this one?" he asked. Grimmjow looked shocked he'd asked.

"What!? No!" Ichigo just stared at him.

"Then I can guarantee you won't be liking the other ones," he said. Grimmjow began to comb his hair with his hand.

"You don't have to listen if you..." Ichigo started.

"No...I...I don't care if I like it or not. I don't care if I end up wanting to rip that bitches head off more then I already do. I just need to know..ya know?" Grimmjow said, almost seeking acceptance for his reasoning. Ichigo nodded.

"Yeah I get it,"

He found himself pulled forward further onto the man's lap. He turned round in question, only to be pulled forward his lips colliding with the others. It was an unusual kiss, not as rough as usual. Usually it was an ultimate battle for dominance (to which Ichigo would gladly submit), their tongues clashing and swirling until a pleasurable pattern, a rhythm was found. Teeth were usually involved as well, biting and nibbling all areas of vulnerable flesh, the gently soothing the wounded area. It was all in all a battle, a pleasurable battle, but a battle none the less, where all participants were victors in the end.

However this kiss was unusual for the fact it was just that. A kiss. Small and chaste, gentle and soft, polar opposites to Grimmjow. It was short and sweet, and when Grimmjow pulled away Ichigo found his face gently cupped. The gesture was a surprise, but more so were the words whispered into his ear as Grimmjow leaned forward.

"I mean it,"

And Ichigo knew exactly which promise he meant.

tbc.

review please and tell me what you thought ...

* * *

and please if you would just read through my A/N?

Firstly, I have this thing planned out and _whoa_ it's going to be epic. Angsty, romantic and epic. Because on the tapes it not only describes what happened during the years of abuse and...well we'll come to that, but also afterwards, how it ended and how met Grimmjow. And on top of that, how present Grimmjow and Ichigo react to the tapes.

Just to clear things up, Ichigo only starts to get counciling at the age of 16. He's eleven in the flashback, but in the other tapes his age will increase (I'll let you know).

Was the flashback thing okay?

If it's till confusing, just tell ask me questions in a review, but hopefully by the end of this fic it'll all be explained. Just warning you, it will become er..slightly angsty before it becomes romantic and spicy, but you'll have that to look forward to eh?

And oh, last thing...is anyone willing to beta for me? (who could also tell me how to do it I have no idea, and who would put up with my random updates?) please? Don't mind if no one does, I was just wondering (because I would feel so much better if I had someone to help me with the plot and grammer and ideas as such)

And yeah, if the O.C bothers you, I'm only adding her because she's neccesary...if it's any concellation I hate her alot...she is developed though, not just an excuse.

Anyways thanks for reading, much love :) and sorry for the long authors note, but I had to get this all off my chest ^^


	3. Tape two: it got worse

warning: AU, probable OOC, boyxboy, yet again, quite a lot of angst in this chapter, established relationship, swearing. But don't let that put you off . Read, if only to tell me how to improve :) If this seems a bit confusing don't worry...all questions will be answered in the long run.

And if it seems boring at the beginning it's all building the atmosphere so keep reading ya.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...but hey...I've got over it now...so please don't sue...

* * *

"Was it alright?"

"What?"

"The tape. Did it go according to plan?"

Ichigo fiddled with the belt loop in his jeans, rubbing his fingers over the fabric slightly as he looked at the man before him. Aizen was perched on his seat, body thrust forward, an eerie smile across his face.

"It was...alright," Ichigo said pausing slightly. It had gone alright. There had been no major setbacks. Well no major setbacks ignoring the fact that it had all come flooding back in painful chunks forcing him to remember each agonising detail, the exact thing he'd happened to overlook when he'd made this 'plan'. Yeah, apart from that it went great. Aizen seemed to notice his hesitation.

"Define alright," the man said. Ichigo grew uncomfotable under his gaze.

"Can I just have the next tape?" he said, trademark scowl sliding into place.

"Now now Ichigo. Patience is a vertue," Ichigo could have kicked him. Instead he sighed. Loudly. Aizen picked up on this (it was rather hard to miss) and obviously decided to continue his interrogating.

"How did Grimmjow react? Was it positive?"

Ichigo didn't really know what to say.

"He...well, he reacted better then I thought," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"How did you think he would react?"

"Well, I dunno. A bit...angry?" he said, almost asking himself.

How had he thought Grimmjow would react? Certainly not with the level on understanding seen the day previous. He'd expected a bit of shouting, followed by some arguing followed by a long agonising talk. He'd expected the man to be less tactful. Even after he'd noticed subtle changes in behavior. Different looks being sent his way then the normal cocky smirk. And to be honest it grated on his nerves. Grimmjow was doing exactly what he'd not wanted him to do albeit in a very subtle hardly noticeable way. But he _did_ notice. He didn't want to say anything though. At least he hadn't walked out on him. Thought he was a - freak.

"Was he not?"

Ichigo focused his gaze on Aizen slightly, being jerked out of his thoughts by the question. He shook his head lightly.

"No. He was really...understanding almost," he said.

"Has he been acting differently around you after what he heard?"

Ichigo could have sworn the man before him was a mind reader. A freaky-probable-closet-paedophile mind reader, but a mind reader none the less. He cocked his head to the side.

"Yeah he has actually. Nothing major but..." Ichigo didn't know how to continue so shrugged slightly.

Aizen gave an understanding nod.

"I see. Do you mind?" Aizen asked. Ichigo looked slightly thoughtful, his eyes drifting to rest on the window.

"Not really. I don't think he knows he's doing it," he said finally.

"Very well. So I take it you want the tape now?"

Ichigo blinked. He'd momentarily forgotten his reason for coming, having slipped into his therapy routine. He nodded, watching as Aizen slipped his hand into his drawer and pulled out a tape. It took much less time then the last tape. Maybe the man had plans and couldn't afford to spend too much time screwing up his patient. Yeah. Like Aizen would actually have 'plans'.

"Could I have the other tape?" Aizen asked, as he handed the tape over.

"Yeah, wait a minute..." Ichigo said, rummaging through his bag until his fingers brushed over something sharp and plastic. He pulled it out and passed it to the man, his eyes falling on the clock on the wall. He couldn't help but watch as the seconds hand travelled ever closer to the 12.

"This tape..." his thought were interrupted yet again by the man before him "is a continuation of where the last tape ended. It is yet again, quite neccessary to listen to should you want your boyfriend to have the whole picture,"

Aizen passed him the tape.

"Yeah, okay then," Ichigo said, fumbling it into his bag and adjusting the strap slightly. A thought struck him.

"Wait. Have you re-listened to all of these then?" he asked, his brows furrowing. Aizen smirked.

"How else would I know what was on them?"

Ichigo could think of several reasons. Ichigo was also fully convinced that Aizen had no social life. That wasn't exactly a shocking revelation though.

"You should get going Ichigo," Aizen said, and Ichigo couldn't help but feel entirely grateful. The room was getting to him, the windows were shut and the walls seemed to be closer together then he remembered.

"Yeah," he said walking towards the door and grabbing the handle. He didn't bother looking back, he knew exactly what he'd see (one smirking Aizen sitting strangely in his seat). Instead he stepped out. Normally he'd walk straight home (and that was a task in itself). But no. He had to stop by the shop to buy some milk. A simple enough task in itself, and Ichigo kept telling himself that. But no matter how calm, cool and collected he looked on the outside, inside he felt like he was walking into an exam, his insides clenching painfully, his chest contracting slightly and he struggled to appear normal.

That was exactly what he tried to do as he stepped into the shop. Exactly what he'd done numerous times before, partly because Grimmjow worked there himself and partly because they often ran out of various items on the days Grimmjow wasn't working (coincidence? Ichigo thought not). It was common practice for him to have to make a detour after his classes or sessions to enter the shop. It didn't make it any easier.

The doors slid open and he walked in, the hideous shoppin music piercing his ears. No wonder Grimmjow listened to his ipod hidden under his shirt during his shifts.

The store was empty and Ichigo noticed that they had changed where everything was. Meaning that finding the milk would prove to be even more difficult. Deciding to risk it all he turned to the man stacking to his left and coughed slightly, ignoring the fact his hands seemed to clam up. It was only another person. There was no reason for him to panic. The man turned around and Ichigo realised that it was the guy Grimmjow was constantly talking about. Ulquiorra something.

"Yeah..." he began at the mans blank slightly scary stare "do you know where the milk is?" he asked. It sounded stupid even to his own ears. The man merely pointed to Ichigo's right.

"Aisle four," he said. Ichigo nodded and turned.

"Do you know Grimmjow?" he heard the man's voice, and turned (with a scowl) to face him.

"Yeah," he said knowing perfectly well he was sounding defensive "why?"

"No reason," the man said, staring straight at him. It was starting to creep him out, so he muttered a thanks and headed off to the aisle, picking the milk up and racing to the checkouts. He couldn't wait to get out of there.

As he walked, milk swinging in his hand, hitting against his thigh, he tried to keep his mind blissfully blank. Blank was good. Blank meant nothing vaguely ominous could be thought.

Blank was hard. So he settled for thinking of the blue haired guy he lived with. Yeah, that was always a nice thought. He smiled slightly, then stopped realising where he was. Smiling to youself in the middle of a street was a good way to get a bad reputation.

He looked up at the stairs to his home, the light shining out faintly from under the door and he practically ran to them before awkwardly removing his keys from his bag, one hand on the milk, one hand diving through the various items in his bag.

The door swung open and he walked in shutting it with a flick of his heel. There was no smell of burning (thank god) so Ichigo could only presume his boyfriend had given up on the whole 'Chef Grimmjow' idea.

He felt a presense appear behind him as he placed the milk in the fridge and he turned to see Grimmjow attempting to look nonchalent, leaning against a counter.

"Did you tell Ulquiorra about me?" Ichigo asked, unable to stop the question. Grimmjow's eyes narrowed.

"Why?" he asked, sounding suspicious. Ichigo shrugged.

"He asked if I knew you," he said. His boyfriend walked over.

"He asked you? Is that all he said?" he asked. Ichigo nodded.

"He didn't go all freaky on yer did he?" Ichigo raised an eyebrow.

"Freaky on me?" he asked. Grimmjow nodded slightly.

"Never mind. What did you say?"

"I said yeah," Ichigo said. He scowled at the look on his boyfriend's face.

"What was I supposed to say no? Act like I didn't know you?" he said letting some of the anger he felt show through.

"I didn't say that," Grimmjow said, sounding angry himself.

"Yeah well you implied it," Ichigo said, his hands clenching automatically.

"And where did yer get tha' idea from?" Grimmjow continued. Ichigo noticed he was running his fingers through his hair and sighed.

"The fact that...you know what. Never mind. Let's just act like this didn't just happen," Ichigo said, the sudden anger leaving him. It was always like this. Arguments started and halted before they were really resolved.

"You can't just do that..." Grimmjow said, obviously shocked at the sudden mood change. Ichigo shrugged.

"I just did,"

There was no real argument from that and another awkward silence crept in. Ichigo kept his eyes focused on the floor. He had to change this. He had to say something that would make everything okay again.

"I got another tape,"

The temperature seemed to drop, but for what it was worth, it did put them back on a stable-ish route.

"Oh...from Aizen?" Grimmjow asked. Ichigo knew that the older man already knew the answer. He was just looking for something to say. Ignoring the easy opening of yet another argument, he nodded.

"Yeah," he said.

"So...do you wanna listen to it?" he heard Grimmjow ask. His voice had dropped quieter, was softer at the mention of the tape. Grimmjow didn't notice. Ichigo found it impossible to ignore.

"Yeah. I'll just go get it," he said. Shouldering the back he walked back into the living room to find his boyfriend sitting, waiting for him, the tape player sitting ominously on the table. Somebody was obviously eager.

Dropping down next to him he opened the back pulling out the tape in it's plastic case. Opening he noticed the faint scribbles on the front. _Ichigo Kurosaki._ He recognised Aizen's hand writing. Yet again he found himself wondering how such an obviously sadistic man got into the 'helping' profession.

He slotted the tape in and pressed play, leaning back, feeling with surprise at the teal haired man beside him took his hand. He turned his head to face him, but it was as if only his hand had moved, his face was stern and set, giving nothing away.

The tape whirred, a crackling sound causing Ichigo to wince before Aizen's voice filled his ears.

_"Are you going to be more co-operative today Ichigo?" _

There was no answer. Ichigo could remember it now, the awkward feeling that had become him when he stepped into the office that day.

_"Why-are you still fucking taping me?" _

Ichigo heard his past self reply. Each syllable sounded hissed, painful like he was forced to be there...oh...wait...he was.

"_Do you want to continue from where we were last week Ichigo?" _Aizen obviously ignored his question (likely deeming it unworthy to answer).

_"Where were we last week,"_

_"You'd just told me about when you'd been hit,"_

Silence. Present day Ichigo felt Grimmjow inadvertently tighten the grip on his hand. He felt himself squeeze back.

_"If...if I tell you. Can I go?" _Ichigo listened to himself sound so - pathetic. Begging almost to go. Sounding so unsure, so different from the Ichigo on the last tape.

"_Today? Yes, you can go after you tell me. But you will need to come back next week until we understand what happened,"_

_"Understand? I understand exactly what happened. That bitch screwed me up. Good and proper. What's so hard to understand about that?"_

He heard himself change, his voice turn angry and the pleading tone vanish from his voice. It was slightly shocking how quickly the change had occurred.

_"Ichigo, we need to fully assess what's going on with you...what's going on inside your head, and for that you're going to need to talk to me,"_

Ichigo heard himself sigh. Loudly.

"_Fine. Fucking fine. I'll talk. You wanna know what happened after that? It **all-got-worse**," _

* * *

Eleven year old Ichigo stood in front of the bathroom mirror. The door was locked, window kept slightly ajar as he stood balancing precariously on the side of the bath, leaning forward near the sink to see his face. He turned it left and right, almost feeling that if he did this enough times the ugly bruise forming across his cheek would vanish and he'd wake up. The aching in his jaw confirmed that this was all too real.

He remembered walking into the kitchen after it happened, still holding his cheek and sitting numbly at the table. God knows how long he'd sat there replaying the words uttered in his head like a sick tape.

_I can hurt your sisters._

_I can hurt your sisters._

_I can hurt your sisters._

He almost had the urge to out pen to paper. Maybe if he wrote it enough times it would stop replaying in his head. His father had walked in loudly, declaring his appearance. Ichigo had turned to see him, his eyes still slightly unfocused as he saw her...her walk in, hand in hand with Yuzu, smiling, laughing. Acting like she hadn't just violently attacked an eleven year old that morning. She turned to look at him pointedly. The words were still whirring round his head. He had to act like nothing had happened. Like everything was okay. He turned to look at Yuzu, her small face beaming and he forced an awkward lopsided smile on his face. He was sure it looked more like a grimace.

"Ahh...Ichigooo!" his father announced, walking towards him, placing his hands on either shoulder. Think normal. What would he normally do? He'd normally shrug him off. That was a relief to be honest. His father stood beaming for a second, watching him, before a frown line appeared.

"Ichigo. Have you been fighting again?" he asked, a small rare moment of seriousness.

Come on Ichigo. He mentally berated himself. If he couldn't act normal...the woman was staring at him. Inside he was secretly screaming. _No. I didn't fight. Does every injury I have have to be my fault? It was her. Her. _He nodded.

"They attacked me first," he said, scowling. His father's frown immediately turned into a beam.

"Well done my young son! Defending ones self is the key to all..."

Ichigo tuned out of his father's useless rant. He'd just lied to his father. His own flesh and blood (no matter how much he'd like to deny the fact). And he felt guilty. Dirty. He stood up.

"And where are you going my son?" his father asked him. He shrugged.

"I'm having a shower," he said, before turning back and walking up the stairs to the bathroom, each step weighing him down. He nearly tripped when he heard that the woman had picked up his sisters from their club. He'd forgotten. And she could have done anything to them. She hadn't, but she could have.

And this is how Ichigo found himself gingerly rotating his jaw in the mirror, watching as a suspiciously finger shaped bruise formed across his jaw line.

He stepped into the shower and turned up the heat. He never really understood it. When he'd been taught in school about washing away sins he'd never got why people had thought that being splashed by a bit of water removed them of their evil deeds. It was just water after all. But as Ichigo scrubbed his skin in small rotations, as if washing away the events of the day he understood slightly more. But no matter how many circles he etched into his skin with the brush, the fact that he'd lied to his father remained. The fact that he hadn't fought back was still a fact. That he'd forgotten to pick up his sisters. It wasn't suddenly erased by the steaming water. All that happened was that his skin was now bright red.

As he dried himself and changed into his pyjamas he felt no cleaner. The words were still echoing in his head. Images of his sisters followed. Yuzu being hit repeatedly. Karin thrown down the stairs, her limp body cascading down like some sick, bloody water fall. It was safe to say that Ichigo didn't sleep too well that night.

He nearly missed his bowl as he poured the cereal in, some spilling out over the edge and lying dejectedly on the table. He was too tired to care. Every times he'd closed his eyes the images had flashed, each one more bloody and brutal then the last until he'd been tempted to scream.

He'd always had nightmares. About his mother. Her, lying dead. Eyes wide open. Staring into nothing. Those nightmares were tame compared to last night. It seemed that as Ichigo grew older, so had his imagination, and he cursed it's ability to conjure such morbid dreams.

"Ichigo!" the excited voice of his sister filled his head. It sounded like she was underwater, but that may have just been because his head felt like cotton wool. He tried to smile, the action causing his dry lips to rip slightly. He sluggishly dragged his tongue over them.

"Hey Yuzu," he said. He pushed aside his cereal. He wasn't very hungry.

"Ichigo?" she asked again. Ichigo looked down into her concerned eyes.

"I'm fine yuzu," he said, forcing himself to sound confident. Her eyes lit up.

"Okay then," she said chirpily.

"What's for breakfast?" the tired voice of Karin filled his ears and he turned to see the small girl slouch into the kitchen. Her eyes were steeled and not letting any emotion show though, but he was used to that. Ever since their mother died it had been the same.

"Er...cereal," he said, trying to force his brain to work. Lack of sleep equalled a non-coherent Ichigo.

"Where's Aya?" Yuzu asked happily from where she was kneeling, digging through the cupboard to find a suitable bowl.

"I don't know," Ichigo said, unable to make his voice any less clipped then it was. Since when was she Aya? Since when was she anything more then that woman? The mention of her caused Ichigo's brain to begin to work slightly. He had to avoid that crazy woman.

"Found them!" Ichigo turned to see Yuzu holding two multicoloured bowls proudly. He gave a small smile back.

Waiting until both girls had sat down at the table, Ichigo reached over and took their bowls, tipping the cereal until there was sufficient amount. His head kept threatening to drop to the table.

"Can you do without milk today?" he asked, silently begging them to agree. He could do without spilling milk all over the table. His brain was just not co-operating.

"Okay," Yuzu said brightly. Thank god for small children being simple minded.

"Is'at okay Karin?" he asked, stifling a yawn. She just shrugged, crossing her arms. Ichigo slid the bowl back to them anyway, taking it for a yes, and watched as Yuzu happily munched, and Karin would eat the odd flake when she thought no one was looking.

Yuzu swallowed noisily then stopped, looking at Ichigo's bowl.

"Aren't you having breakfast Ichigo?" she said, looking confused.

"I'm not hungry Yuzu," he said. She still looked confused.

"But...why?" she asked. Ichigo was really not in the mood for this.

"Because I had lots to eat yesterday," he said simply. The girl appeared to think about this then nodded happily like it had never happened.

"Okay," she said. Ichigo resited the urge to face palm knowing it would likely hurt allot more the usual thanks to the palm faced bruise across his face.

"Family!" the arrival of his father was announced by the usual scream coming from the man. He bent down hugging his sisters (Karin pretending it wasn't happening and Yuzu higging back witha squeal) before patting Ichigo firmly on the head.

"Ayako will be here any minute to...!" the sound of a doorbell hit Ichigo's ears. His head was already swaying from lack of sleep and his fathers gesture of affection had not helped the growing headache at all. Isshin rushed out to get the doorbell, Ichigo resting his head in his hands. He heard the door swing shut. Footsteps.

"You're father told me to tell you goodbye,"

He shot up at the sound of her voice. She wasn't even looking at him, instead smiling at his sisters. Yuzu leaped down from the chair and skipped towards her.

"Aya," she said. A disgustingly happy laugh made it's way out of the woman's mouth as she ruffled her sisters hair. Ichigo felt his hands grip the table.

"Hello Yuzu. Are you ready for school?" she asked. Yuzu nodded her head, and Ichigo watched with deepening dread as she ran to drag her sister out the room, most likely to grab their school bags.

They were alone in the room. Exactly the situation he hadn't wanted. He couldn't stop his heart rate from quickening as the silence became claustrophobic. Then, slowly, she turned to him.

"Hello Ichigo," she said, leaning against the table top examining her nails. Ichigo could see from where he was that each digit had a sufficient amount of dirt under the nail. All in all just another thing about her that disgusted him.

He refused to answer.

"Now now Ichigo, it's not very nice to ignore people," she said patronisingly. Ichigo swallowed. She walked over to the bench, grabbing the loaf of bread and a knife. Ichigo felt more alert at the sight of the flashing utensil as she hacked through the loaf.

"What do you want in your sandwiches?" she asked. Ichigo decided to play along, her having a knife and him being half awake.

"Cheese," he said. He sounded a lot more confident then he felt. There was a silence.

"Alright then. Cheese it is," she said, walking over to the fridge, he shoes making awkward squeaking noises against the tiles. His eyes never left the knife that she kept in he hand. He watched as she cut the cheese sloppily and hastily layed it over the bread. He didn't dare ask for butter. He watched as her grimy nails dug into the bread as she pressed it onto the cheese, leaving four finger prints fresh in the bread.

As she handed him the bag he thanked her. He knew he wasn't going to eat them. He was going to throw them away as soon as he reached school. There was no way he was eating anything she's prepared for him. No way.

As his sisters ran in (well his sister pulling his other sister) he made his excuses and left. No he didn't want to be escorted to school. Yes he was fine. Thank you for the sandwiches.

Had he not been so tired he would have ran to school, just to escape. He felt like he'd ran to school, what with the heavy breathing and beating heart. As soon as he reached the gates he headed for the bin, hastily stuffing the bag in before anyone would notice.

He always went to school early. It wasn't because he was waiting for friends. He didn't need friends...he told himself. No, he was fine with his family. It would be nice to have friends, he thought. Every now and then he'd have a small urge to talk to someone in his class. But then someone would make a comment on his hair, or his clothes, or his mother and he'd lose it. He'd start screaming at them, cursing, swearing. He'd provoke them into a fight. Say things that should never be said, prod their ego's until they threw the first punch. Let them hit him (he deserved that much) before hitting them. Never too hard, but hard enough. But hey. They started it.

No wonder his father thought he'd been in a fight. It wasn't an unusual occurrence.

So Ichigo pulled out a book and began to read. Alone. Sitting at his desk before even the teacher had arrived. The caretaker unlocked the doors before any one showed up, and the teachers knew he did this. Every morning. He barely noticed when the other kids began to file in.

"Hey berry head. You reading?"

You'd think they'd never take a hint. Ichigo looked up. He was _not _in the mood for this.

"No, I'm just staring at a book," he said, repeating a line he'd heard from somewhere. He always loved using dead pan sarcasm. It pissed them off more.

The stupid kid ripped the book from him.

"You're such a nerd," the kid said. Ichigo clenched his fist.

"Give it back," he said. There was a crowd round them now. Another fight. How amazing.

The kid moved the book back as he went to grab it.

"No," he said smugly. Ichigo clenched his teeth.

"Give my fucking book back," he said. There were a few collective gasps.

"You just swore," the kid said smirking.

"Shut-up," Ichigo said, taking another grab at his book.

"I'm telling" the kid said, the same stupid smug grin on his face. Ichigo saw red.

This time it was a different fight. It was so desperate it was...un-describable. All Ichigo knew was that he was tired, his head hurt and he wanted his book back. All he knew was that he was on top of the kid, punching him repeatedly in the face until his fists were bloody. All he knew was that he was pulled off and led out.

He was suspended for a week. He was under the watch of her while his father was at work. His father was annoyed at him. He knew that by the lack of joking in his direction, by the smile thrown his way being forced and tight. So he'd left him to be looked after by her.

The first day nothing happened. It was almost too quiet and Ichigo spent the entire day checking behind him.

The second day she grabbed his wrist. It was so unexpected he didn't know how to react. Lulled into a false sense of security from the day before he walked into the kitchen, barely a second thought when she lashed out. She merely held his wrist, squeezing it slightly, increasing the pressure until it was a painful pinch. Then releasing him. Like it was no big deal. This happened a lot. Her just grabbing him. His arm. His wrist. Each time holding not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to hurt. That was until the forth day.

He'd not been sleeping well since that day. His dreams were plagued with nightmares and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Ichigo wasn't stupid though. He knew what adults used when they were tired. They drank that coffee stuff. So he'd boiled himself a kettle and carefully poured some into the mug. He'd tried to take a sip, but it was too hot, so he'd waited until the steam had stopped pouring off it. It was disgusting. It made him want to gag at how rich the god awful stuff was. But he'd drank it all. Just to see if it was work. That was how Ichigo Kurosaki became addicted to caffeine.

On the fourth day he was coming down from the coffee he'd had that morning. He was tempted to make another one, but the woman was in the kitchen so that was a definite no. He'd gone in any way just to check, and saw her standing by the bench. He turned round fast, about to walk out...

"Berry head,"

He'd stopped to look at the woman. He grabbed his arm out of reflex and held it to him.

"I like that name. Berry head. Do you like it?" she asked. He did nothing, said nothing merely watched her as she stood by the chopping board, knife poised dangerously above the carrots she was about to cut. She turned, knife glinting slightly.

"No? How about strawberry?," she said. Ichigo remained silent, biting down on his tongue to prevent himself from shouting. She was holding a knife and he wanted no risks.

"Come here strawberry," he wanted nothing more then to turn and run, but his body seemed to move on it's own and soon he was standing directly in front of her as she brought the knife down. He flinched, feeling his teeth dig sharply into his tongue.

"Your sisters are pretty you know strawberry," she said softly, still slicing the carrot. Ichigo said nothing.

"It's so strange to think that you're their brother," she said, the words brother spat out like venom. Ichigo could taste copper oozing out from where he bit his tongue. He ignored it.

"You look nothing like them you know," she continued, her hair covering her face. Ichigo's eyes never once left the knife.

"It's almost like...you're not their brother...like maybe you're not Isshin's son,"

"Shut-up," he barked.

Ichigo couldn't help it. The words flew from his mouth before he could think. What she was implying, that his mother had - had done that. It was insulting. It was wrong.

Safe to say he was fully expecting to be grabbed and shaken. He wasn't fully expecting to be shoved against the counter, his head coming into contact with the hard linoleum flooring. His ears rang as he twisted round painfuly to look at the woman who was watching her own hands. Ichigo could feel the blood run from his head, knew that he'd cut it on the fall down, likely from the sharp side of the counter. He watched, as it dribbled onto the floor, as the woman walked over to the chopping board and grabbed a carrot. Unwanted, uncalled for tears filled his eyes as his blurred vision took in the fact that she was ignoring him. Leaving him. He closed his eyes, the song she was humming echoing through his head.

He woke in his bed. His head was bandaged. It still hurt, ached, throbbed in fact, but he ignored it and attempted to sit up. The room span, and he had to resist the urge to grab his head. The door slamming open did nothin for his head ache, and he looked up with blurry eyes into the face of his father.

"Ichigo? Look at me Ichigo...Ayako told me how you slipped in the kitchen,"

His heart dropped. He could do nothing but nod and try to open his mouth. He felt himself enveloped in a hug and in his bleary state did nothing. He didn't hug back, but he didn't push away.

"Ichigo. Take these,"

Ichigo felt some tablets thrust into his hand. He opened his mouth.

"What are they?" he asked. His voice was croaky, and he felt like it hadn't been used in years. He felt his father ruffle his hair.

"They'll help with the pain," he said. Ichigo nodded and placed them in his mouth, downing the water he was given. He heard a chuckle.

"Really Ichigo though...running on wet floor. I thought you'd be more sensible,"

The sinking feeling returned.

_I can hurt your sisters._

He shrugged, wincing at the jarring which occurred in his neck. He felt his father help him lie down, guiding him to his pillow.

"You need to thank her when your feeling better. She found you and bandaged you," he said softly. Ichigo bit his tongue (a habit which was being used more and more). He nodded.

He thanked god that his father kept serious until he'd shut the door. As soon as the door was closed 'Daughters!' filled his ears as his father was once more, an idiot. It was his coping method though so who was he to knock it. Since his mother died he'd started acting the clown, the idiot, mostly to cheer his daughters up. Ichigo knew that he was doing it to mask his real feelings, and he knew it wasn't healthy, but what else could his father do?

Ichigo was deemed healthy enough to venture from his bed two days after the 'accident'. His father had the day off and had decided it would be an amazing idea to invite that woman round so Ichigo could 'formally thank her'. Ichigo would much rather formally scratch her. Hit her. Kick her. Hurt her.

So that was how he found himself, head bowed, hands clenched, his fathers hand on his shoulder.

"Thankyou," he said, praying that it sounded slightly sincere. He heard a tinkling laugh from above him and flinched as stubby fingers ruffled his hair. No one seemed to noticed though. To make matters worse she leaned down, actually leaned down so her face was looming inches away from his. He looked everywhere but at her eyes, his eyes darting to the floor, the walls, anything but her face.

"That's alright. Just be more careful next time Ichi" she said cheerfully. Ichigo ignored her, even as she stepped back and stood upright. Ichi. Since when did she have any right to call him 'Ichi'. Only one person had ever called him that, and that was how he'd like it to remain.

"Well done son," Ichigo felt his hair ruffled yet again by his father this time. It was a habit he was beginning to detest. His father began to laugh slightly, and that woman joined in. Was there some joke that Ichigo had missed? The bonding moment between the two made him sick.

"Ayako, now that you're here, why don't you stay for tea? I'm sure the girls will love you to join us," Ichigo was glad that _he _wasn't mentioned in that last sentence. But at the same time he felt sick at the thoughts of her eating in his home with his sisters. And the fact that his sisters loved her made it all that much worse. Well Yuzu definitely did, but Karin hadn't openly objected which was a sign she didn't really mind the person. He edged towards the door.

"I'm going to bed," he announced, looking at his father and only his father. As far as he was concerned there was no one else in the room (so he kept trying to convince himself).

"Are you okay?" his father had his serious face on and had immediately stepped forward, his hand on Ichigos forehead. Ichigo slapped it off.

"I'm fine! I'm just tired," he said. The goofy face was back on and Ichigo took it as his cue to leave.

He slammed his bedroom door closed wishing it had a lock, praying that if he slammed it enough times, a lock would appear. At the same time he hated locks. They locked people in. But right now he wanted to lock people out. He wanted to be sure no one would enter his room. But at the same time he wanted to be able to leave it.

His hands fisted in his bright hair, his eyes screwed shut, small sounds of despair escaping from his tightly closed lips in small hiccups. He hated it. He didn't know what 'it' was, only that he hated it.

He looked up, inadvertently catching sight of his reflection in the mirror of his wardrobe. The door was open, the mirror angled in such a way that Ichigo could see everything about him. His eyes that were red. His dry lips. His arms. His pathetic weak arms. He lifted one up experimentally tensing it. There was no change. It was weak, thin, disgusting.

He couldn't help it. He lifted his shirt, eyeing his ribs poking thought skin. His weak stomach. Pathetic. He poked it. It was soft. He dropped his shirt angrily and slammed his wardrobe shut relishing in the sharp thud in produced.

This was why this was happening. He was too weak. If he wasn't so fucking weak he could have shoved her back. Done something. It was because he was weak. He needed to become stronger. Strong so he could say what had really happened. Strong enough to protect his sisters. And he needed to start now.

That was the day Ichigo Kurosaki became addicted to exercise. He'd lie on the carpet of his bedroom, pushing his body off the ground until it hurt. Until it ached. Until he wanted to cry. And even then he'd carry on. He gave up on counting. No number was high enough. Each number was weak. So he did it until he physically couldn't do it anymore. Until he could barely make it back to bed. Sometimes he didn't. Sometimes he'd just lie, unable to move his protesting muscles. And he'd relish in the feeling.

The feeling of getting stronger.

* * *

_"Did you Ichigo?"_

Ichigo of the present closed his eyes. He could almost feel his muscles aching as he thought back to the grueling torture he'd forced himself though.

_"Did I what?"_

_"Get stronger?"_

Silence.

_"Well that's a matter of opinion. I'd say no,"_

_"And why is that?"_

_"Because I still couldn't stop her,"_

The only sound heard was the sound of pen scribbling hurriedly on paper.

_"How long did she hurt you,"_

There was no answer.

_"What changed?"_

Aizen continued to question, ignoring the lack of answer from the last. The silence lingered for a few seconds before Ichigo heard himself answer.

"_I met Hichigo,"_

That name. That name. He hadn't heard it in years.

_"Ichigo, you do know..."_

_"Can I go now. I told you about it. Can I go,"_

_"Of course Ichigo. I'll just turn off the tape,"_

The tape ended and Ichigo reached over to press the stop button. It was around this time that he realised that he could no longer feel his hand, the hold that Grimmjow had on it reaching a painful stage. He reached over and placed his hand over Grimmjow's offending one. It seemed to jolt him out of whatever trance he was in and he released his hold.

"Shit," he said, looking at his hand like it didn't belong to him. Ichigo got a sense of De ja vu, the situation seeming similar to the last time (minus the throbbing hand).

"Sorry," Grimmjow muttered gruffly, so quiet Ichigo had to strain to hear it.

"It's okay," he said flexing his hand. Some of the feeling was now returning. Grimmjow grabbed it and began to awkwardly rub it, helping in his own unhelpful way. Ichigo would have smiled had the memories not been fresh in his mind.

"Ichigo," he heard his boyfriend ask, still not releasing his hand, how just holding it almost tenderly (although he'd never admit it).

"Yeah?" he replied quietly. It didn't seem right to speak at normal level just yet.

"Is she dead?" Grimmjow asked. Ichigo raised his eyebrow.

"Yeah. He said on the first tape," Ichigo said, referring to Aizen. Grimmjow nodded.

"Wanted to make sure," he said. Ichigo furrowed his eyebrows.

"Why?" he asked. Grimmjow turned to look at him, his eyes steely and hard. Had the anger been directed at Ichigo he would have panicked. He'd never seen such an intense look of hatred on the other man's face.

"Because...," he started as if wondering how to phrase it "is she did so 'appen to be alive, I would kill her,"

Ichigo swallowed. The way Grimmjow said the last sentence made it fully clear that he would actually kill her. There was no exaggeration, the look on his boyfriend's face told him that he would actually go out and kill the woman (in a horribly violent way judging from the slightly homicidal facial expression).

"Well she's dead," he said with finality. He could have sworn he heard Grimmjow mutter 'lucky for her', before he found himself pulled back and held albeit rather stiffly by his boyfriend. He noticed that Grimmjow was hastily running his fingers through his hair with one hand, the other hand wrapped tightly around Ichigo's slim torso.

"You...er...ya don't mind me callin' ye Ichi do ya?" Ichigo noticed his boyfriend's speech drop the grammar even more so then usual, another sign he was particularly pissed of or upset. Ichigo thought about the question.

"No...I like it" he said truthfully, trying to fight down the small blush that had decided to appear. He saw the cogs turning in his boyfriends head as he thought how to phrase the next question.

"Yer not weak..ya know that don't ya?" Grimmjow asked, looking intently at him. Ichigo avoided eye contact out of habit rather then anything. He shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess," he said. He could always be stronger but he wasn't as weak as he had been. He knew Grimmjow was unhappy with the vague answer, and was grateful when he dropped it.

"Do you wanna watch the game?"

Ichigo was relieved and even more grateful. He knew his boyfriend was wound tighter then a coiled spring, knew he must have been aching to ask questions, to scream, to do something. He wasn't a very patient man that Grimmjow. And yet he was acting like everything was normal. Just for him. For Ichigo.

Even though he was still reeling slightly from the tape (it was past, but that didn't change the fact it had all been real, it had all happened past or not...you can't just walk away from that) Ichigo couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face and in a surprisingly womanly gesture he leaned up, pressing his lips softly to his boyfriends neck. It was worth it just for the look on the other man's face, but he knew it was the best way to convey it. To convey his thanks...

tbc.

Please review. Was it okay? Just a simple 'yes' or 'no' will suffice...[although I'd love you if you told me why...? ¬.¬ ]

OhmiLord that took me ages ^^ Okay Important notices here (well important to me...maybe you too?)

Firstly, this chapter WOULD have been betad by 'The Holyest Of Crap' [great name btw]...but I have no clue how to use the betaing system or how to send this chapter across to be edited....so if anyone would kindly point out to the technophobe here how it's done...and if The Holyest Of Crap wouldn't mind being my beta? Thanks again for offering ^^ It's okay if you're too busy though, I won't be offended XD

Okay...this may not be updated for a while because my finals are coming up and I will be spending my life revising stuff I will never use once I step out of the exam hall [seriously, we're not being taught to learn we're being taught to pass exams...it pisses me off to be frank]. Just giving you heads up.

woot, Hichigo next chapter :) (though it may not be up in a while...)


	4. Tape three: hello Hichigo?

I guess I owe an apology...I'm so sorry this capter took so long to get out, but exams decided to rule my life. Now they are over, let's just say you can be expecting alot more updates ;)

I really don't see how a disclaimer is needed on this sight...it's called fanfiction dot net...0.o...none the less I guess I will just confirm to you all that I do not own Bleach or any products I may have mentioned in this fic...this angst ridden plot is all mine though ;)

Warnings: language, scenes of child abuse and slight boyxboy..or rather manxman (they're 18 and 19)

Betad by The Holyest of Crap, thankyou so much for having to edit this thing ^_^

* * *

_Chapter 5._

"How are you Ichigo?"

Ichigo suddenly felt as though he'd stepped into a session with the older man, the words so familiarly said each week..

"Fine," he muttered, with a half shrug. It was half true, he was fine, although never so much in the office. It was too small , too enclosed. And the window was shut. Why was the window shut? It wasn't like it was too cold out, and the man knew how much he liked it open.

"Would you like the tape?" Aizen's voice broke through his inner musings. Ichigo nodded sharply. It was becoming a routine, the man reached under his desk, unlocked his drawer and pulled out a tape. The plastic cover had on it a scribble in red pen that Ichigo couldn't seem to make out despite his squinting. As the tape was handed over, he quickly shoved it in his bag and secured it on his shoulder.

"Er," he began "can I wait here for a bit?" he asked. Aizen's face showed confusion for a split second, before the usual mask slipped into place.

"Why of course Ichigo. Is there any particular reason, or do you just desire my company?"

Yes this was why he was nervous. He scoffed.

"I desire many things, your company definitely not one of them. Er, my boyfriend said he wanted to meet me here today after work," he said, trailing off at the end.

It was true. He'd asked...well rather told him the day previous that he was going to be walking him home, and despite Ichigo's arguing that he _wasn't _a girl and didn't need to be walked home like one, secretly, he appreciated it.

"To walk you home?" he looked up to see Aizen. Smirking. He scowled openly at the man.

"What do you think?" he asked. Always a mistake to ask this of a psychologist.

"What do I think? I think that yes, he is meeting you here with the intent to walk you home safely, which means that I also think that the tapes you have been playing to him have been affecting him more then he has been letting on, which leads me to the theory that he is behaving slightly more over protectively, whilst attempting to cover it. That is what I think Ichigo,"

Ichigo didn't even bother nodding. He just scowled.

"Has he been Ichigo?" Aizen asked, ignoring the silence which showed quite obviously that he did not want to answer.

"Yes," he said reluctantly. When it became clear that this answer was not going to suffice he sighed.

"Yeah, he's been arguing more. Not serious, but little things. I think it's because I told him something, and he's been trying to hard not to..." he trailed off.

"What did you tell him Ichigo?" Aizen asked. Ichigo back peddled rapidly.

"Er, I can't remember to well, it was on the night of the first tape," he muttered looking anywhere but at Aizen's eyes. He made sure not to look left though. He knew that trick. If you're lying, you look left...apparently. He made sure to look down, at his converse clad feet. He still knew he hadn't gotten away with it, he'd admitted as much in the previous sentence.

"Hmm...of course Ichigo," he knew he hadn't gotten away with it. The man was using his annoying 'I know you're lying, so I'll act exceedingly patronising towards you' tone.

"So are you prepared for this tape Ichigo? It follows on from the last tape...you were surprisingly vocal through out both sessions" he asked. Ichigo was slightly thankful for the change in conversation, although this direction was less than comfortable. He nodded slightly.

"Yeah," he muttered. He pulled at a string from inside the pocket of his jeans, where his hands were safely jammed.

"Are you sure? You know what this tape includes?" Aizen persisted. Ichigo growled slightly.

"Yes, I know what it includes. I'm over it...," liar "...I know the truth now..." he didn't believe it though "I'm fine,"

"Yes well...on the tape which you left no time in stuffing into your bag, is another glimpse into your psyche. You open up much more on this tape then the previous, and it is such a break through moment, I had to satisfy myself by listening to it twice," Aizen said, his knowing smirk still plastered across his face. Ichigo looked at him oddly.

"And once wasn't enough?" he questioned sarcastically.

"No, it wasn't," Aizen answered. Ichigo was beginning to reconsider his being there when the other man stood up. He flinched.

"I think it would be best for you to wait outside for your boyfriend Ichigo," he said, pointing slightly. Ichigo raised one brow. He'd had to stand up to say that?

"Um, okay," he said, removing his hand from his pocket to open the door. He flinched slightly at the creak.

"Ah yes, I'm needing to get Nnoitra to fix that door. It's overdue a good oiling," Ichigo turned swiftly at the sound of Aizen's voice, where he stood by the window, looking out. His back was to him. Ichigo nodded, before realizing he couldn't see him.

"Yeah," he said, awkwardly, pulling at the door only to be stopped yet again by the man's voice.

"Oh and Ichigo, when will I be getting these tapes back?" he asked.

"You mean I can't keep them?" Ichigo asked incredulously.

"That would be rather unprofessional of me though...wouldn't it Ichigo?" Aizen asked, turning to face him slightly. Ichigo gulped slightly.

"Yeah...I'll give them back when I'm finished," he said, quietly, thinking to the small pile of tapes on his coffee table.

Not giving the other man a chance to stop him he pulled open the door quickly and shut it behind him with a small thud. He glanced down the corridor, but the only person there was the secretary, who gave him a small wave. He waved back dejectedly. Grimmjow was late.

He resigned himself to one of the chairs lined up along the wall, ignoring the nostalgia that hit him. The amount of times he'd sat outside that office. He shook his head slightly, shutting his eyes to clear his thoughts, when hurried footsteps hit his ears.

He opened his eyes to the sight of his boyfriend, walking quickly down the corridor growling at the secretary's polite enquiring. Ichigo let a small smile slip onto his face as he watched the other man take to the building like a cat to water. He could practically imagine the other's hair bristling. He stood, coughing slightly, alerting the man to his presence.

He watched as Grimmjow turned to face, him, his glare lessening slightly. He raised his hand.

"Hey," he said softly. He didn't put his hand in his pocket, instead fiddling with his bag strap absent mindedly.

"Er hey," Grimmjow replied, glancing round the gloomy corridor. He leaned in.

"You really had to come here every week?" he whispered. Ichigo fought down a laugh and rolled his eyes.

"I still do," he whispered back. Not for long, he thought. He looked over where the secretary was watching Grimmjow with unconcealed suspicion and cleared his throat.

"Er, so shall we go then?" he asked. Grimmjow shook his head.

"I wanna speak to this, Aizen first," he said, his face set. Ichigo looked confused.

"Why?" he asked, sounding incredulous. Grimmjow glanced sideways at him.

"I wanna see who my _boyfriend _has been visiting every week or the past god knows how many years," Grimmjow said loudly, turning to look pointedly at the secretary, who was avoiding eye contact, her face rather red.

"Three" Ichigo muttered under his breath, fighting down the blush that had formed across his face. He would have face-palmed, only that would have increased the red-ness of his face.

"So where is he?" his boyfriend continued, looking around as if Aizen were hiding behind various objects. Ichigo rolled his eyes....again.

"In his office probably," he said, knowing full well he was in his office. Grimmjow picked up on this.

"Probably? You were just in there right?" he asked. Ichigo conceded.

"Well....yes," he said shrugging.

"Right," Grimmjow said nodding slightly, heading towards the first door he saw. Ichigo, hurriedly walked after him, hissing his name.

"It's this one right?" Grimmjow said, pointing towards Aizen's office.

"Yes but...Grimm!" he said angrily as his boyfriend opened the door and walked in.

Aizen was sitting at his desk, notebook open. He didn't look shocked. If anything he looked as though he was expecting his boyfriend to march in looking like Satan.

"Ah...Ichigo," he said, looking past Grimmjow at Ichigo, who was hovering by the door "this must be Grimmjow," Ichigo nodded, glaring at the man. It was obvious who he was.

"You're Aizen right," Grimmjow said, leering down at the man. Aizen smiled back, albeit in a rather creepy way.

"Yes, I am Aizen Sousuke, Ichigo's psychiatrist. I'm presuming that you are Ichigo's...partner," he said, entwining his hands beneath his chin. Ichigo watched as Grimmjow's eyes twitched, revealing his aggravation.

"I'm Ichigo's _boyfriend _yes," he said, emphasis on the 'boyfriend'. Ichigo took this as a sign to step into the room. He placed a hand on Grimmjow's arm lightly.

"Grimm," he said quietly. He was shrugged off.

"And dare I ask why you have barged into my office in such a manner? Ichigo, it was barely seconds ago that you were last in here, do you desire my presence so much?"

This was why he never wanted them to meet.. Aizen and Grimmjow. Aizen with his flirty, overly confident attitude and Grimmjow with his barely reigned in possessive, also overly confident personality. The two did not mix well, and as the temperature dropped in the room, Ichigo resisted the urge to bolt.

"Grimm...jow, just wanted to meet you," he said, trying to defuse the situation. He decided against the pet name in the presence of Aizen. God knows what the man's twisted mind would take from it. 'Ah, your using pet names are you Ichigo? This tells me that you are very comfortable around this man....tell me, do you use them in bed?'. No, he would stop that one before it started.

"Well then, hello. I have already introduced myself, but I shall do it again regardless. Aizen Sousuke," he said, holding out a hand. Grimmjow seemed to eye it wearily, before grabbing it.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaques," he said gruffly.

Ichigo could have slammed his head against the wall on the realization that they were _competing on handshake grip. _Instead he merely waited until they pulled away.

"So tell me, what was the real reason for your visit," Aizen asked. Ichigo watched with interest as Grimmjow debated with himself on what to say. He himself had no idea why he was there. Grimmjow seemed to decide, then leaned in, his face mere inches from Aizen's. Ichigo watched the event unfold with horror.

"Okay then, I'll jus' come out and say it.. If you screw my boyfriend up with your psychiatrist shit or touch him inappropriately, I will fucking _kill_ you,"

Ichigo felt his eyes widen as the words left his boyfriends lips, his blush (which had still not fully gone) coming back tenfold. His mouth opened and closed a few times as his boyfriend leaned back, glaring at the man, who was still smiling eerily.

"I'm glad we're on the same wave length here Mr. Jaegerjaques. Neither of those you just implied are my intent. I wish only to help," Aizen said, and Ichigo wondered if Grimmjow noticed the short change of expression flash across his face. Probably not. His eyes were to busy glaring.

Now thoroughly embarrassed, Ichigo stalked forward grabbing his boyfriend by the arm and dragging him to the door before he could say or do anything else.

"It was a pleasure meeting you Mr. Jaegerjaques. And of course a pleasure seeing you Ichigo," Aizen called to them as they left and the door swung shut. Ichigo proceeded to lead his boyfriend out the building and it was only when they were a safe distance away and alone (as far as he could see) that he whirled around, eyes blazing.

"Let's get this straight. You insist on meeting me and walking home with me...so you could _threaten _my physiatrist?" Ichigo asked, hands clenched. Grimmjow had the nerve to look nonchalant.

"Yeah," he said, grinning slightly before seeming to realize something.

"I mean I would have met you anyway," smooth "...but that was just...extra," he said shrugging. Ichigo raised a brow. They began to walk.

"Extra," he said, his fingers forming quotations. Grimmjow shrugged.

"I was going to do it at some point anyway," he said. Ichigo looked incredulous.

"What, threaten him?" he said.

"Warn him," Grimmjow said darkly. Ichigo hid face.

"You didn't have to," he said. Grimmjow shrugged.

"I know," he said confidently. Ichigo looked up sharply.

"Ya may be short, but ye can sure pack a punch when ye want to," he said, grammar going down hill as he gave Ichigo a small shove. Ichigo batted his hand away.

"Shut up, I'm not short," he said.. It was good walking with Grimmjow. He didn't have to think as much. Everything became so much easier. He flinched slightly when he felt a warm arm wrap round his waist, but didn't shrug it off.

"Grimm...we're in public," he said quietly, eyes darting around as if a homophobe were about to leap out a tree with a machete.

"So what?" Grimmjow said. Ichigo sighed. He'd always been more open when it came to his sexuality. On no account did Ichigo hide it, but he was more wary about what people would do.

"Come on Ichi...there's no one around," Grimmjow whispered, meaning down, his breath ghosting Ichigo's neck. Ichigo shuddered, but conceded, relaxing into his grip. It was kind of nice. He felt safer. More secure.

"Your still not wearing yer coat," he heard Grimmjow say. The deep vibrations of his voice ran through him.

"I forgot...again," he said.

"Well when yer dying of hypothermia, don' come askin' me for anythin'," Grimmjow said, tightening his grip around his wait slightly.

Ichigo would have rolled his eyes, but for the fact the other man wouldn't have seen it. His eye rolling would have been in vain.

As they walked into the house, literally joined at the hip, Ichigo shuddered slightly. Normally the house had been warmed by Grimmjow (the man unable to stand intense cold or heat), but as they walked in together there was a light chill. Grimmjow seemed to notice his shiver and released his grip on Ichigo, shrugging off his jacket.

"Here," he said gruffly. Ichigo took it awkwardly.

"Just put it on, you're making me cold just looking at ya," Grimmjow said, walking through into the kitchen. Ichigo smiled slightly, pulling it on. He followed Grimmjow into the kitchen, and grabbed the kettle. He noticed Grimmjow looking at him oddly, and he tilted his head.

"Want a hot chocolate?" he asked. Grimmjow's face formed a smirk.

"Nah, I'll have some beer. Ya know. A man's drink," he said, reaching into the fridge to pull out his 'mans drink'. Ichigo scowled.

"Probably why _men's _average life expectancy is lower then women's," he said, pouring a sachet into his mug. Grimmjow snapped open the can.

"You're a man, too, though, Ichi...barely, but..."

Ichigo just glared at him.. This was good. This was friendly arguing.

"A man who is so _confidant _in his masculinity that he can afford to drink hot chocolate," he said, pouring the boiling water into the mug, and opening the fridge to grab the milk.

There was a moment of comfortable silence as Ichigo indulged in his chocolate and Grimmjow took deep gulps of beer.

"So...I've got the tape," Ichigo said, approaching the topic slowly. Grimmjow nodded.

"Yeah," he said. Another moment of silence.

"Shall we listen to it then eat? Or do you want me to cook something now?" Ichigo asked. Grimmjow shook his head.

"We can eat afterwards," he said. His happy mood was slowly deteriorating before Ichigo's eyes, and he quickly went to grab his bag, afraid it would have vanished by the time he got back. As it were, Grimmjow was sitting, usual place, watching the empty tape player. He walked in, at the same time removing the tape from his bag.

He opened it..

And put it in.

And pressed play.

_"Ichigo...are you willing to tell me today?"_

_"About what," _Ichigo listened to his sixteen year old voice, so dejected, so...lost.

_"About what happened when you were twelve. About when you met...Hichigo, I believe you told me," _

There was a silence.

_"Ichigo, you're going to have to tell me..."_

_"Fine. You want me to tell you? To tell you how I met him?"_

_"Yes Ichigo, I would like that very much,"_

_"...I was tired..."_

* * *

A whole year. A whole year had passed since he had first seen that woman. A whole year since she ruined his life, turning it into  
One big hazy mess of color.

He didn't sleep too often. He'd read about it. It was called insomnia. It started out with the nightmares, each night growing more and more vivid, more and more horrific as he was forced to see things again and again and again. With the constant threat of his sister's well being looming over him, his dreams were very often filled with their deaths. Even he was amazed at how many methods of killing his mind had thought up. Sometimes it would be the woman. And sometimes it would be him, standing over their bodies holding the knife, the gun, the rope, the vase, the saw, the table leg. The worst was when it was just his own hands, and he was forced to watch them choke the life out of them, watch as they spasmed beneath him.

So he didn't sleep. Who needed sleep when you could have sweet, sweet caffeine? The mixture of coffee and energy drinks managed to keep him up during the day, just enough so he was awake.

And so it was safe to say, when he wrote in his journal on that hot summer day, that it almost hurt to hold the pen. He looked across the page.

_Did 2 hours exercise. Not enough. Fuck, you're so weak. So fucking weak. weak. _

Weak. He'd somehow managed to scribble the word across the entire page multiple times, almost subconsciously. It wasn't surprising though. It was true.

True, he'd managed to build some muscle. His skin was now taught across his arms and legs and stomach, the faint outlines of muscles giving the illusion of a six pack. He lifted his top, smiling slightly to himself as he noticed this. He poked it slightly, relishing in the fact that it was hard. No longer did his finger sink into his skin. But then as he looked into the mirror it vanished. Weak. He was still weak. He was still small, scrawny. His hands tensed at the thoughts, and he immediately dropped to the floor, his hands  
pushing against it as he began another grueling routine.

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5  
_  
He didn't know when, but soon the numbers began to form words.

_Weak, Pathetic.  
_  
He found himself muttering them on each press, his eyes glazed. He could almost hear them creak and strain as he continued. It was only when the burning began that he allowed himself to drop to the floor. He lay there for a few moments, panting heavily, before dragging himself to his feet. He pulled himself onto the chair by his desk, and grabbed his pen.

_Still not enough..._

He wiped the tears that began to form at the revelation away with a heavy arm, smearing sweat across his face. Still it was better that then to cry; to show the ultimate weakness.

"Ichigo," he flinched at the sound of his name being called from the bottom of the stairs. It was her.. He fought down his anger and took several deep breaths.

"I'm coming," he shouted, trying to appear normal. God knows what she'd do if he didn't. He approached the stairs, dragging his legs. There she was, standing and the bottom of the stairs. Her hideously messy hair hung loose around her face and her smirk was calculating. She beckoned with a grubby finger..

"Get here now berry," she said. He nodded, gripping the banister as he walked down them. He winced as she grabbed his arm, effectively pulling him down the remaining three steps.

"You were late," she hissed. Ichigo nodded. Disagreeing only made it worse. He dug his nails into his palm. He'd get stronger, strong enough to over power her. Her grip tightened.

"I called you down. You took too long," she continued, gripping his arms with her other hand, effectively giving him a chinese burn. He winced.

"What were you doing?" she asked.

"Writing," Ichigo said. She grinned.

"That's nice berry. But can you be a little _quicker _next time," she said, tightening her grip even more. Ichigo just nodded. She released him sharply, shoving him backwards into the banister. He gasped as his already aching muscles hit the wood. She merely  
smiled at him.

"Go and cook dinner," she said. Ichigo nodded. He'd been cooking it for a while now. She'd forced him into the kitchen and made him cook, ordering him from her seat at the kitchen table. She told his father she was teaching him 'vital skills'. She was making him cut vegetables, occasionally 'assisting' him. She made him bandage his fingers afterward as well.

He searched through the drawer for a knife, tensing as she followed him into the room..

"You know what berry? That stove looks pretty dirty," he looked over to it. It was so clean it was shiny.

"I think you should clean it," she said. Ichigo bit his lip, opening and rummaging through a drawer for a cloth.

"No, wait... you should clean your hands first," she said, smiling. Ichigo nodded, feeling confused. He watched as she walked over to the sink and turned on the tap.

"You should wait for it to get hot," she said. He nodded. He put his hands forward, towards the water, only to find them slapped away.

"No, no. I said wait until it gets hot," she said. Ichigo felt himself break into a slight sweat as he watched the water grow hotter...and hotter, until steam itself was rising off. He could practically feel the heat from there..

"Okay berry. Now wash your hands," she said. He looked up, to see if she was completely serious. She was. Her face was set, smiling.

"Come on now berry. Isshin will be home soon with Yuzu and Karin," she said, a barely concealed threat had he ever heard one. He gulped, moving his hands closer to the stream of water. He couldn't do it. It was too hot. She seemed to sense this and shook her head.

"You're being stupid now berry," she grabbed his wrists.

"All I want is for you to wash your hands," she moved them closer.

"Why can't you just wash your fucking hands?" they were too close.

"Can you not even do that by yourself?"

She rammed them forward, and Ichigo couldn't help the scream that leapt from his throat. The water cascaded across them, burning, scorching, unbearable. It was like the heat was ignoring his skin and heading straight to the bone, in hurt so bad, as his nerves kicked in and he tried to wrench them back. He struggled, shaking his wrists, but her grip just tightened. His hands spasmed under the heat and tensed, trying to break through her iron grip.

Finally after what seemed like hours she released him, and he yanked them backwards, breathing heavily.

"There now...all clean," she said, as Ichigo stared at his now red hands. His skin felt like it was melting, and for a second he thought he was going to collapse. Then he felt her grab his already abused wrists and pull him back under the water, only now it was cold. Soothing.

"Don't you feel clean berry?" she asked. He couldn't answer. His mouth wasn't working right. He felt her grab his hand, and he stifled a yelp.

"I asked you a question berry," she said, not relinquishing her hold. He felt tears spring into his eyes, and swallowed a sob. Crying only showed how weak he was.

"Yes," he whispered hoarsely.

"Yes what?" she asked.

"Yes...Ayako," he coughed. She smiled.

"Now your hands' are clean, you can clean the stove," she said, releasing him with a quick shove. He nodded, biting his lip with anger. If only he was stronger. He could have escaped. Breathing heavily, he moved his scalded hands towards the cloth, feeling his skin begin to blister slightly. He grabbed the cloth, biting back a gasp as his stinging fingers gripped the fabric. It was like acid was being poured onto an open wound. He felt the cloth slip clumsily through his swelling grip, and quickly maneuvered his hands so it didn't fall to the floor.

"I said you can clean the stove now," she said.. He looked up to see her leaning against the counter. She was grinning.

"I'm doing it," he said quietly. He walked over to the stove, and flopped his hand onto it. It felt slightly disconnected by the pain.

"Scrub," she repeated. And he did. He bit his lip so hard that blood began to pool in his mouth, and drip down his chin. But he still scrubbed. Even when the pain was so intense he nearly blacked out, he scrubbed. Because if he didn't, she'd say he hadn't cleaned his hands well enough. And that would hurt a lot more.

He'd had to lie. Of course he'd had to lie when his father had come home. He'd decided to cook the dinner without that woman. It was a stupid thing to do, but he'd needed to put the boiled potatoes in water. It had spilt all over his hand. She'd found him, ran it under hot water, sprayed it with burn spray and wrapped it in gauze.. He'd had to thank her and apologies for being so stupid. It hurt him more then the burns.

The last year had made him change in school. He no longer waited for them to throw the first punch. Instead he was the one threatening them, his temper short. He was quick to argue, and it isolated him even more. Now not only was he a loner, but people were scared of him. His father was called in on account of his 'bullying'. He'd apologized. Said it wouldn't happen again. It did.

It was a week after the burns. His hands still ached, but that may have been on account of him continuing to do press ups, despite the agonizing pain. The phrase 'no pain no gain' was taken to the extreme in this case. But it was worth it as he felt his taut skin, his defined muscles.

He stared in the mirror at his torso. It still wasn't enough. He barely concentrated on his face. It just made him feel worse. The bags under his eyes were heavy and dark, his skin now a permanent pale shade. This was probably the reason his father had forced him out the house that day, in a rare serious moment.

"Ichigo are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine," he said avoiding direct eye contact with the man.

"You've been looking tired recently and you've gotten into a lot of fights in the past few months, not to mention how accident prone you've got" he continued.

"I'm fine,"

"Well, you look like you could use some sun my son!" he suddenly exclaimed after a moments thought. Ichigo's eyes widened.

"What?" he said, his mouth open as his father ushered him towards the front door.

"Go out and play with your friends!" he said happily. Ichigo debated whether to grab the door frame, but decided instead just to allow his father to shove him out the door.

"Stay in the shade though my son. Your hair colour and complexion mean you burn easily," his father said smiling crazily.

"But..." he began.

"No protesting Ichigo, Ayako is coming round tonight and I want you to have soaked up sufficient sun before she arrives," Ichigo disguised the wince as a twitch. He rammed his fingers in his pockets and pulled his hood up over his head. Despite the weather it was better not to have people staring at his hair color. So he put up with it, allowing himself to sweat freely.

He wandered round, eventually coming to a park. It was surprisingly nice, this walk. There was no woman there for once, and he felt he could let his guard down some. Not all the way. Never all the way, but some.  
He sat, on the bench, scuffing his feet against the dirt when he first heard him.

"Ain't ya hot?"

His head shot up to stare at the speaker, his eyes coming to rest on a boy. He was taller then him from what he could see, and looked older. His skin was even paler then his, and his eyes...his eyes were strange. As was his hair. But who was he to judge? He felt himself tense as he looked at the boy who was wearing a grin almost as wide as his face.

"No," he replied finally. There was a moment's silence.

"You don't talk much do ya?" the boy said, mockingly. Ichigo curled his hand into a fist, ignoring the pain.

"No," He said through gritted teeth "I talk plenty,"

The other boy walked towards him.

"Then why ain't ya? Are ya too good fer me or somethin'?"

The boy stopped directly in front of him. Ichigo didn't reply. The boy leant down.

"Am I right? You think yer some kinda king or somethin'?"

Ichigo couldn't help it. It was too funny. He laughed. The idea of him being a king was so stupid. The other boy looked angry.

"What the fuck ye laughin' fer?" he said, glaring. Ichigo shook his head, trying to stop the laughter. It was borderline hysterical now. It hurt.

"Stop it," the boy said grabbing his collar. Ichigo calmed himself down enough to say

"I'm not laughing at you,"

The boy dropped his collar and sat next to him on the bench, looking at him oddly.

"Then what?" he asked. Ichigo noticed his voice had an odd metallic sound to it.

"Just... me being a king. It's laughable," he said.

"You got a crown, though, yeah?" the other boys said, grin now back on face. It was Ichigo's turn to look oddly at the other..

"What? No I haven't" he said, instinctively feeling the top of his head. The other boy burst into laughter and Ichigo felt his face burn with embarrassment.

"Shut up," he said angrily, standing as is to leave. The other boy grabbed his arm, and he flinched, pulling it back against himself like a wounded animal. The boy gave him an odd look.

"Easy King, I'm jus' playin'" he said. Ichigo bristled at the nickname, but sat back down anyway.  
"What's yer real name then?" the boy asked. Ichigo debated telling him, and decided that it wouldn't do any harm.

"Ichigo," he said quietly waiting for the reaction.

"Ha, like strawberry? Tha's hilarious," the boy said laughing. Ichigo flinched at the name. At least he wasn't calling him...

"Berry. Heh, can I call ya berry?" he shook his head vigorously.

"No. Call me anything but...that," he said darkly. The other boy seemed to sense his mood and held up his hands.

"Alright then. King," he said, not a moments hesitation. Ichigo sighed and let it slide. It was better then...the other name, and it wasn't like he was going to be seeing much of the other boy right?

"What's your name?" Ichigo asked, suddenly remembering. The other boy grinned.

"Hichigo," he said. Ichigo scowled.

"No it's not. That's too similar to my name," he said with finality. The other boy just laughed.

"Your name's just too similar to my name," he said, leaning back on the bench. Ichigo just scowled.

"Tha's all yer gettin' from me. Believe it if ya will," 'Hichigo' said. Ichigo just shrugged. He was too tired for this.

"Whatever," he said.

"Meet me here tomorrow, same time," Hichigo said. Ichigo looked up at him. Was he for real? He appeared to be, and Ichigo just nodded knowing too well he just wouldn't show up. The other boy just grinned at him, waved mockingly and walked away.

Ichigo did end up going. Each time. His father was pleased. Pleased he was going out and meeting 'friends'. Hichigo turned out to be good to talk to. He said nothing himself, being far too evasive a person to let anything slip. But he listened. Ichigo found himself liking the older boy, despite his odd mannerisms and habits. He reminded him of himself for some strange reason. It was safe to say that when the other boy found out what was happening he wasn't exactly...pleased.

Ichigo had been waiting, usual spot, usual stance only this time slightly more hunched over. He'd heard the familiar footsteps and looked up to see Hichigo. He smiled slightly.

"Hey," he said, raising his hand in a wave. The other boy grinned.

"Hey King," he said, dropping down next to him and taking a cigarette from his pocket. Ichigo glared at it.

"You shouldn't do that you know," he said. The other boy feigned innocence.

"What? This?" he said, lighting it and taking a deep drag. Ichigo wrinkled his nose at the smoke plume which began to smother his face and coughed.

"Yes that. It's bad for your health," he said, fanning the air around his head. He noticed the boy's eyes target in on his hand, and only then Ichigo realised his bandaged wrist was showing slightly, the bandage peeking out from under his sleeve. He quickly  
grabbed his sleeve, pulling it down. He looked away.

"Bad for my health, yeah?" Hichigo said, in a voice which told Ichigo that he wasn't talking about smoking. Ichigo ignored him.

"What's that then?" the boy asked, flicking his cigarette in the direction of Ichigo. Ichigo shook his head.

"Nothing," he said, quietly. There was a short silence. Ichigo fiddled with his sleeve.

"If it's nothing then you can show me it," Ichigo noticed the change in speech. It meant he was serious. Ichigo reluctantly handed him his wrist, and heard the barely audible gasp from the boy when the sleeve was lifted up. Ichigo glanced over at it, and saw the  
bandage, hastily tied across his wrist with congealed blood staining various patches. He watched as the other boy dropped his cigarette. It lay there on the concrete by the grass, burning quietly.

"I...I didn't know ye were like that," Hichigo said after a few seconds silence, his expression dark. Ichigo quickly shook his head.

"No, it wasn't me it was…" he stopped and yanked his wrist back. He saw the other boy's pale face cloud.

"Who was it," Hichigo said. Ichigo shook his head again. He felt the other boys pale hands grip his shoulders, shaking him slightly.

"_Who the fuck was it?_," Ichigo took a deep breath.

"It was...you know...the woman," he said through his hands. It was scary. It felt as though she were going to leap out at any moment.

"The one you're always mentioning?" Hichigo asked. Ichigo nodded.

"And why do ye never mention this?" he asked, glaring down. Ichigo shook his head.

"I'm not supposed to...she'll hurt my sisters if I do," he said. He heard the other boy swear under his breath, and let go of his shoulders. Ichigo couldn't help but shake at what he'd done. Images flashed violently of his sisters, and suddenly he knew he had to go home. He had to see if they were alright. He stood up.

"Hey...King...wait," the other boy jogged to catch up with him, but Ichigo didn't slow down.

"Fuuuck," he heard the other curse, long and drawn out, as he tried to stop him. He felt him grab his shoulders again, and he tried to shake him off, but his heart wasn't into it.

"What," he said quietly. The other boy seemed at a loss of what to say.

"Just...meet me here tomorrow, same time okay?" he asked. Ichigo nodded promising. That would be okay, but for now he had to go home to see if they were alright. And to shower. He definitely needed a shower.  
He kept his promise. He met him there the next day, same time. Surprisingly the older boy was there before him. His face was grim.

"Hey," he said, as per usual. The other boy studied his face carefully before replying.

"Tell me," he said. Ichigo shook his head. He'd told him too much already.

"Was she the reason you were limping two weeks ago?" he asked. Ichigo nodded slightly.

"When you came here with bruises? That wasn't from a fight?" Ichigo shook his head.

"Well fuck. Tell me King. Tell me what fucking happened," he said. Ichigo turned to face him, peering out from behind his hood. He bit his lip.

"I can't," he said. Hichigo sighed loudly.

"Then what? What the fuck do you want from me?" he asked angrily. Ichigo looked up, feeling his heart rate quicken. What did he want from him? He licked his lips and swallowed.

"To...I want you to help,"

* * *

_"Ichigo...when you were telling me this... are you aware that you..."_

_"Shut up,"_

_"Ichigo?"_

_"I said shut up. I don't want to talk anymore. I'm leaving,"_

_"As you wish Ichigo. Same time next week however, will you tell me the rest?"_

There was a silence.

_"Yeah..."_

The tape stopped and Ichigo reached over, stopping it. Yet again the room was bathed in a thick silence and Ichigo shook his head to clear his thoughts. It was the present. That was the past. He no longer needed to do one thousand press-up's to prove his worth. He no longer drank coffee. He didn't need it, was better off without it.

Funny that. It wasn't affecting him as much as the other tapes, like he was almost getting used to it. If there was one thing Ichigo loved, it was routine. It kept everything simple. And right now, the wave of illness that had hit him the previous two tapes was lesser. In fact he was more worried how Grimmjow would react.

He turned to look over at his boyfriend.

"Grimm?" he asked. There was no answer. His boyfriend appeared deep in thought, and four lines were visible through his hairline, a sure indicator he'd been running his fingers through it.

"Should I start cooking something?" the reply was instantaneous.

"_No,"_ Ichigo looked taken aback at the severity of the answer and Grimmjow seemed to sense this.

"I mean, er...we'll order in," he said with some finality. Ichigo had some idea what was behind this change of plan, but decided to ignore that and instead agreed.

"Okay then. Pizza?" he asked.

"Yeah," Grimmjow replied, sounding distracted. Ichigo swallowed.

"I'm fine you know," he said, saying the one thing he should have said from the beginning. He felt the other's eyes on him. "It was a long time ago. I'm better now," he said. Grimmjow looked at him oddly.

"Then why are ye still seeing a shrink?" he asked, sounding slightly suspicious. Ichigo thought of how best to answer this.

"I...I still have the occasional problem," he said.

"Like?" Grimmjow pressed further.

"I'm not so good with crowd, or new people. I've still got...trust issues," he said, the two words leaving a bad taste on his tongue. Aizen always referred to it as such.

His boyfriend seemed unable to think of a suitable answer. Ichigo spared him.

"So have you been talking about me to Ulquiorra then?" he asked. There. Subject change.

"What? No," he said, furrowing his brows. Ichigo blinked.

"Then how does he know who I am," he said, referring to their strange meeting days previous. Grimmjow scowled.

"I mean I've mentioned you and stuff, but not a full blown conversation," he said.. Ichigo nodded.

"Yeah. Sure," he said, grinning. Grimmjow didn't rise to the bait, instead taking his hands in his. Ichigo just watched as the man stared at them, as though committing them to memory. He shifted them, grabbing one of Grimmjow's and entwining them, smiling  
lightly at his questioning look.

"See? Fine," he said. Grimmjow looked away.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said gruffly.. Ichigo's smile widened, turning into a grin as he stood up and straddled the older man ignoring his bewildered expression. He leant in, his lips hovering mere centimeters away.

"Perfectly fine," he said, feeling himself pulled down, his lips captured at bruising speed. He smiled into the kiss. He just hoped he would be alright after the next tape...and more than that, Grimmjow.

tbc.

Review? Was it okay? Suggestions? Thankyou for reading this far by the way ^_^

Next chapter will be focused more on Hichigo and Ichigo (during the tape) ...and rest assured the GrimmIchi tapes will be coming soon enough...so you have that to look forward to...I think I'm beginning to hate my own OC more than I did before...on rereading, she is really evil...and it's slightly scary to think she was the product of my mind 0.o...


	5. Tape four: Caffeine

warning: (I hate warnings...they take away the surprise element) AU, probable OOC, boyxboy, yet again, quite a lot of angst in this chapter, established relationship, swearing, child-abuse, psychological abuse, But don't let that put you off . Read, if only to tell me how to improve :) If this seems a bit confusing don't worry...all questions will be answered in the long run.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...but hey...I've got over it now...so please don't sue...

Thankyou Holyest of Crap for betaing this thing ^_^

* * *

Chapter 5.

"How was it Ichigo,"

"Fine. It was fine," Ichigo said, looking anywhere but at the man before him, sitting at his desk, an eerie smile in place.

"You say that Ichigo, but your posture tells me otherwise,"

Ichigo immediately stood up straight from his hunched over stance, forcing his hands out his pockets and staring straight at the man.

"That's better," Aizen said quietly, his grin growing. Ichigo watched as he gently pushed his glasses up his nose with a slender finger. He felt his eyes drift away and his fingers itch.

"Now tell me truthfully. How did Mr. Jaegerjaques react?" Ichigo shrugged, feeling his shoulders slipping back into their hunched position.

"Seriously? Better then I expected," he said, sliding his hand back into his pocket. Aizen's eyes followed his movement, but he glared back, daring him to say anything.

"Was he angry?" Aizen asked. Ichigo could tell he was aching for his notebook to scribble the conversation down. He guessed it was a psychiatrist thing.

"Yeah. Course he was," he said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Violently angry?" Aizen asked. Ichigo quickly shook his head.

"No. Not really," he said.

"Has he asked you anything about the tapes?" the man asked, leaning forward slightly. Ichigo thought back to the night before.

"Not really...he asked why I was still seeing...you," Ichigo replied, catching himself before he said 'shrink'.

"What did you tell him?" the man asked. Ichigo furrowed his brow.

"That I had 'trust issues'" he said, his fingers itching to bunny quote the words. Aizen's smile grew.

"Ah, yes. Trust issues. I was surprised that you've lasted this long with him," the man said slyly. Ichigo narrowed his eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"Only that I've seen many people who have been through similar experiences find themselves unable to formulate a long lasting relationship. Their trust issues became a barrier for them," the man said, looking at Ichigo pointedly.

"Have you found yourself having barriers in your relationship recently?"

Ichigo grit his teeth.

"No," he growled. Aizen made a noise of acknowledgement.

"Well it's obvious you have issues with it if you yourself can't tell him about your past," the man said. Ichigo shook his head.

"No. It's completely different and you know it," he said. Aizen didn't reply.

"You had some issues at the start of the relationship" he stated after a few seconds uncomfortable silence.

"I listened to some later tapes," he said at Ichigo's questioning stare.

"I presume your going to play him these?" he asked.

"What?" Ichigo said, slightly confused.

"The tapes of what happened after the incidents in your household," he said.

"What? When I went to college?" Ichigo asked. Aizen nodded slightly. He thought about it.

"Not really," he said after a moment's contemplation.

"So you're going to play your boyfriend the tapes of the incident and before, and none of the tapes afterwards?" he asked. Ichigo nodded, feeling slightly less sure.

"None of the tapes which show your recovery? Only the tapes which show your damaged mental state?" the man leant backwards in his chair. Ichigo winced at the 'damaged'. It made him sounds broken.

"What are you saying," he asked unable to stop the accusing tone that escaped his lips.

"Saying? I'm saying nothing. It's just that one would imagine that your boyfriend would appreciate listening to all the tapes, to reassure him shall we say, of your currently stable mental state," the man said. Ichigo looked away.

"Could it be because you mentioned him during the sessions?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes lightly.

"Obviously," he muttered.

"You're referring to the comments you made after first meeting him?"

Ichigo didn't answer.

"I'm sure he won't mind now what you thought of him then. If anything I think he'd be flattered by the comments in the later tapes..."

"I said I hated him," Ichigo said, suspicious to how any flattery could be achieved from the rectangle lumps of plastic.

"In one tape yes. However, in later tapes your opinion of him greatly changes..."

Ichigo flinched slightly as he felt his phone vibrate against his leg.

"Hang on," he said, interrupting man as he fished into his pocket and pulled out the offending item. It was a text.

"Er...I've got a text," he said, waving the phone slightly. Aizen nodded.

"Feel free to answer," he said waving, an amused expression appearing on his face.

"Uh, yeah," Ichigo said, averting his eyes to his phone and flicking it open. It was from Renji. He smiled slightly thinking of his red-headed friend before closing his phone. It could wait. He'd text back later to the pointless text, three words 'I found it', referring to the folder full of art which he had lost (and would not shut up about) the day before.

"A friend?"

Aizen's voice was a sharp reminder that he was in fact in an office with a rather intimidating man. He nodded.

"Yeah," he said, re-pocketing his phone.

"There was no ringtone," the man commented. Inwardly Ichigo sighed. Trust him to pick up on that. No one else did. He tried to play it off.

"Yeah," he said, hoping for a conversation change.

"Any particular reason?"

Damn.

"No," he said, his eyes glinting slightly.

"Okay then," the man said, obviously deciding to drop it.

The truth was the sound was too obvious. He jumped, he couldn't help it. At least with vibrate it wasn't as obvious, the first week with a ringtone he nearly had a heart attack each time he received a text.

"Can I have the tape then?" he said, remembering his reason for being in the office.

"Why of course Ichigo," he said "wouldn't do for you to leave my office...empty handed,"

Ichigo ignored him comments and waited as the man pulled out a case. It was cracked, and the tape inside scribbled across in marker pen. He snatched it, not wanting his hand to linger anywhere near the man's, and unzipped his bag, roughly shoving it in. He didn't thank him. There was no point.

"This tape continues from the last one," the man said, conversationally. Ichigo nodded.

"I expect you may need to leave now Ichigo," the man said, looking at the door behind him.

"Yeah," he replied, a sense of relief flooding him as he made his way to the door. There always was. This room made him uneasy. Or maybe it was the man in the room. Either way he associated the room with the man, and the man with the room, meaning an intense discomfort was always felt when he was there.

He walked out, flinching at the creak and walked past the absent desk towards the exit.

His hands automatically found his pocket and bagstrap, one burying deep into the fabric and the other clenching around the strap. It was fine. He'd done it thousands of times before. Down the street and past the shop. He found himself slowing down as he reached the store, glancing in. Should he pick up milk? They needed some but...

Steeling himself he decided to be spontaneous. He'd buy the milk. Walking through the sliding doors he headed straight to the milk, remembering the previous encounter he'd had with that Ulquiorra.

Speak of the devil...

"Do you go to Aizen?"

Ichigo blinked. The man, Ulquiorra, was standing in front of him, his face blank.

"Excuse me?" he said, his instinct telling him to shrink, common sense forcing him into an aggressive stance.

"I saw you leave there," the slightly shorter man continued, his voice flat, eyes expressionless. Ichigo was taken aback by his blunt and abrupt attitude.

"What?" he asked.

"The clinic. I saw you leave," the man stated. Ichigo shook his head slightly.

"How would you know that?" he was getting creeped out, seriously regretting his spontaneous decision.

"I saw you leave," the man repeated.

"_How_ did you _see_ me _leave_?" Ichigo hissed, rephrasing.

"I'm applying for a job there," the man said, eyes giving nothing away.

"Oh..." Ichigo said, no idea what to say to the man.

"So do you go to Aizen?" the man asked for a second time.

"Yeah," Ichigo said, before thinking. He should have told him to back off, that it was none of his business. He didn't even really know the guy beyond what Grimmjow had told him and their impromptu meeting days previous. He'd been backed into a corner.

"So you're mentally unstable?" the man asked.

Ichigo bristled, his eyes narrowing, his instincts telling him to leave.

"What?" he growled, incredulously. The man replied matter-of-factly.

"You're visiting a psychiatrist, meaning you're mentally unstable,"

There was that phrase again.

Unstable.

_Unstable._

_**Unstable.**_

He'd heard it too many times not to react. He felt his fists clench as he listened to his instincts, turning his back and walking away, not gracing the man with an answer. Had he no tact? Who asked things like that?

He took deep breaths as he left, his pace more a stalk then a walk, trying to quell his anger. Who was he to judge him? Did he have no people skills whatsoever?

He'd just about distinguished his anger when he arrived home, yanking off his coat (which Grimmjow had forced upon him) and shrugging his bag onto the floor. He marched into the kitchen, his hands immediately reaching for the kettle. He stopped himself in disbelief. He didn't need coffee. He didn't need it.

It was only then that he noticed the smell of burning and turned to look at another Grimmjow-concoction he knew would be to blame.

"Hey," he turned to face his boyfriend, noticing the apron and slightly sheepish expression with confirmed his suspicions.

"I thought I'd 'ave another go," he said. Ichigo didn't answer, his brain still full of that phrase. Unstable. Unstable.

"Ichi?"

His distress obviously showed on his face because Grimmjow sounded slightly concerned. He looked down, hearing shuffling as his boyfriend pulled off the apron and walked towards him.

"What is it?" he asked. Ichigo shook his head.

"Nothing," he muttered. Grimmjow glared.

"Ichi...what. Is. It," he hissed, reaching up to grab each arm. He forced his face closer. Ichigo flinched at the feeling on his arms, immediately pulling back and curling them towards him. Grimmjow seemed to realize his mistake and muttered an apology, but stood waiting for his answer. Ichigo sighed.

"It was just someone said something..." he trailed off. He knew his boyfriend was glaring daggers at something or other, so looked at his converse clad feet instead.

"What?"

Ichigo bit his lip. What could he do? He could lie and feel incredibly guilty. He could play it off as nothing? No, that wouldn't work, Grimmjow knew him too well, knew he wouldn't get upset over something minor. Tell him the truth? Ulquiorra would be good as dead. But what could he do? He decided the third option. Ulquiorra was applying for another job anyway, het though bitterly.

"They...they asked if I was mentally unstable," he said, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

There was a silence, which Ichigo felt the need to fill.

"He asked if I knew Aizen, and said he saw me leave the clinic..."

Ok, he really wasn't doing Ulquiorra any favors...he was now sounding like a stalker...

"...and visiting a physiologist made me mentally unstable,"

He decided to stop there. He was already digging a hole for the man. Not even a hole. More a mine.

There was silence, filled with Grimmjow's heavy breathing.

"Who,"

One word. It was deadly. Ichigo nearly jumped on hearing it.

"Ulquiorra," he said so quietly that even he had trouble hearing it. Apparently Grimmjow heard it because as Ichigo risked a look at his face, it was filled with confusion and anger. He looked incredibly pissed of at any rate.

Ichigo started as the teal haired man left the kitchen and headed to the hall.

Ichigo followed him with confusion, watching as he pulled on his leather jacket, a certain sinking feeling appearing.

"Where are you going?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"To _kill the bastard," _

"What? No! Grimm, leave it," he said, rushing forward and latching onto his arm. He was shook off.

"Let him get away with that? No, that fuckin' freak's 'ad it comin' to 'im" all grammar was off, a sign of how pissed he truly was.

"For fuck sake LEAVE IT," Ichigo said, screaming the last two words. That seemed to stop the man, as he was met with the sight of Ichigo standing, panting slightly, head down, hands clenched and shaking.

Ichigo felt two arms wrap awkwardly around him and he willed himself to relax.

"Leave it," he repeated "it's not worth it,"

"You're not ya know. Unstable. Stupid bastard had no righ' sayin' that," Grimmjow said into his hair.

"I don't know why I'm so pissed off," Ichigo said quietly "I guess it's 'cause I've heard that phrase _so many times_,"

He felt the arms tighten around him.

"Promise me you won't do anything," he said. There was no reply.

"Grimm," he said warningly. There was a sigh.

"Fine,"

He smiled into the fabric of Grimmjow's shirt.

"Thanks," he said. Ichigo decided against telling Grimmjow that Ulquiorra was in fact applying for a job at the clinic, for fear his boyfriend would insist on walking him home after each time he went. After the last time he'd decided never again. The gesture was enough.

"I..er...got a tape," he said, swiftly changing the subject. He felt the arms retract with a sigh.

"Let me jus'..." Grimmjow said, pointing toward the kitchen. Ichigo nodded, reaching down and retrieving the tape. He walked into the living room and collapsed onto the couch, staring warily at the pile of tapes slowly taking over the table.

He watched as his boyfriend returned, sitting down next to him. He could see the tension in the older man's shoulders and knew he was still angry.

"Ulquiorra..."

Ichigo looked up on hearing Grimmjow's voice. It was unusually quiet. Ichigo waited for him to continue.

"He's...he's strange. Ain't got no concept of, er...what's the term. Proper behavior?"

Ichigo snorted. He'd realized that.

"I know you think I'm bad," Grimmjow said, obviously mistaking Ichigo's laugh differently "but he's on a whole new level. Doesn't know what to say half the time,"

Ichigo faced Grimmjow, wondering where this was going.

"I'm not excusin' 'im. Because that bastard deserves to get the shit kicked outta him for sayin' that to ye," Ichigo smiled slightly at the man's nonchalantly violent behavior.

"...Just thought I'd tell ye that. Yer not the first one he's done it to," he continued, his eyes slightly glazed over as if remembering something.

There was a short silence in which Ichigo realized he'd been tapping his knee against the table and abruptly stopped, instead flicking his watch strap. He wouldn't bruise that way.

"Shall we listen to it?" he asked, leaning into the man slightly.

"Yeah," came the answer. Ichigo took a breath and slotted the tape into the machine, pressing play and tensing slightly as familiar voices pierced his ears.

_"Ichigo...last week you promised me you'd tell me what happened next,"_

_"I didn't promise,"_

_"But you said you would right?"_

_"...yeah,"_

_"So can you tell me what happened?"_

There was a silence.

_"You'd just..."_

_"Fine,"_

_"Ichigo?"_

_"Fine then. I'll tell you what happened..."_

* * *

Hichigo wouldn't leave it alone. It was a constant barrage of 'tell someone!' or 'get help!'. Ichigo ignored it. He couldn't tell anyone. He wouldn't risk his sisters. At least that's what he told himself. It was for his sisters. Not because he was scared to tell. No.

He'd just done his exercise. More pushups then you could count. His arms were aching and his skin hurt. The water streaming from the shower was too hot, his skin now a flushed red. But that was how he liked it. Hot. Painful. Unbearable. Just so he could bare it. So he could test himself. Like when he held his breath.

He'd fill the sink with water. Slowly but surely dipping his head into the water, till it covered most his head. Then he'd open his eyes. The water would sting, ache, and he'd want to close them, but he wouldn't. He'd just hold himself there, until his lungs began to burn. Each time it became harder. Not harder to stay under, harder to come up. It seemed so easy, to just inhale the water. To let go. He'd done it once, taken a deep drag of water. It shredded his lungs as he coughed it up, spraying onto the pristine tiles.

It seemed like his whole mind was shaken up. He'd never really considered dying an option, but right then it seemed to hold many opportunities for him. His whole concept of life seemed to change, as he looked at things differently. Walking down his streets became an opportunity, as he watched each car pass, subconsciously choosing which car would be best for his to step out in front of. He imagined it vividly , his body hitting the metal, the car hitting his body, as it skidded across the street, his skin being split open on the pavement.

As he looked around him he no longer saw buildings as buildings. Instead he judged them, which one would be best to step off? Which one would provide maximum chance of death.

He never did walk out in front of cars. Or step off buildings. But he thought about it an awful lot, his mindset being twisted and shaken until he managed to convince himself that these thoughts were normal.

As he stepped out the shower, his head light headed, he grabbed his clothes, quickly drying himself and slipping into them. He took them into the shower now. It felt safer that way. He pressed his ear against the door. Hearing no one (more specifically no woman) on the other side, he quickly opened the door and ran to his bedroom. Shutting his door behind him, he made his way to his desk, pulling out his journal and grabbing his pen.

_Did pushups. Still not strong._

Each page of the book was similar, mentioning the words 'weak' and 'strong'.

_Hichigo won't let up._

It was true. He was getting worse in his persuading, so much so that Ichigo was beginning to regret telling him.

_..._

He didn't know what to write. There were no words at all to describe how he was feeling. Like an outsider in his own home, but used to it in a way that weighed him down, like someone had his heart on a chain and was pulling him towards the earth at every given moment. He hated Isshin. He hated how he hadn't been able to see what was happening. He almost hated his sisters for being so vulnerable, easy to use. He hated with a burning fire that...that..._woman. _Hated how she'd destroyed his life. Destroyed everything. As selfish as it seemed, he hated his mother, for dying. For leaving him with that monster. He hated Hichigo, for prying, meddling. He'd only make things worse, Ichigo _knew _that. Most of all however, he hated himself. For being weak. For being pathetic. For...for, everything.

This is how he thought, aged fourteen. Each day literally seemed longer. Harder to endure. He forced himself to. Because he had to become strong. Funny thing was, he forgot why. He just knew he had to.

Sitting at his desk in school he surrounded by other students though not really seeing them. He was at school, his eyes heavy, threatening to shut, making him wish he'd had that extra coffee that morning. He looked up however as the teacher called his name.

"Ichigo. I want to speak to you after class,"

So he waited. In his desk. She made her way over to him, expression grave, but Ichigo couldn't bring himself to care.

"Ichigo, the staff and I have noticed that recently, you've not been looking very well," she started. Ichigo felt his heartbeat quicken slightly, his head clearing at what the words indicated. They were catching on.

"We were wondering...if there anything wrong at all? At home? Because we're always here if you need to talk to anybody..."

Ichigo could have sworn his throat closed shut at those words, but forced himself to speak.

"I'm fine. Everything's fine," he said, and could he have smiled, he would have. He stood before she could say anything, pulling his hood over his head as he walked out the classroom, immediately hunching over. He didn't turn behind him to see her stunned expression, his eyes instead darting to and fro, in every direction as he headed purposely away from the woman. The fact she was a woman, and shared so many physical traits that...._she _did was disturbing enough, but now she wanted to get involved? No. No, he wouldn't let her.

He looked at his watch quickly, to see what lesson he should have, nearly starting when he realized that school was over. Looking up he noticed the few kids there making there way out. He should have noticed that before, but it was unsurprising considering how little he's slept the night before.

Stepping out he did notice the figure leaning casually against a nearby car. Hichigo. It had become routine to walk home together. Or rather to the end of Ichigo's street, then the boy would wander off.

"Hey King," the boy said, giving a wild grin. The grin lessened on seeing his disheveled appearance.

"How much sleep did ye get last night?" he asked, as they began to walk.

"Enough," Ichigo said, wincing at the sound of his gruff voice.

"It obviously wasn't," the boy snapped. Ichigo shrugged.

"An' take that fuckin' hood down as well," he continued, to which Ichigo stepped quickly out his reach, scowling.

"You know why I wear it," he said darkly.

The boy didn't reply, instead taking out a cigarette and flicking his lighter beneath it. Ichigo wrinkled his nose. The boy seemed to notice his distate and took a deep drag staring pointedly.

"She done anything recently?" he asked after a short while. Ichigo shook his head.

"Not recent recent," he said.

"King. Can I make you a deal?" Hichigo asked. Ichigo grew suspicious.

"Depends what kind of deal," he said. Hichigo stopped, forcing Ichigo to stop. The older boy seemed to be taking in his appearance, his eyes drifting over him, something flashing behind them every now and then. Then he began to walk, Ichigo jogging slightly to catch up. Ichigo had just opened his mouth to ask when the boy turned slightly.

"I'll quit smoking," he said. Ichigo felt his eyes widen.

"Seriously?" he said. The boy nodded, grimacing. Ichigo was stunned. The boy had smoked all the time he'd known him, ignoring his attempts to get him to quit, showing no signs of wanting to.

"I'll quit," the boy continued "If you tell someone,"

Ichigo felt like he'd taken an extra step.

"What?" he asked, unable to believe what had just been suggested.

"I'll stop smoking, forever if you insist, if you tell someone about what she's doing to you. Or let me tell someone. Just let someone know, let someone do something!"

Ichigo felt himself back away slowly, his head immediately shaking and a mantra of 'no no no' repeating itself through his head.

"That's...that's not fair," he said. The pale boy narrowed his eyes.

"Oh really?" he said. Ichigo felt himself scowl.

"Yes," he hissed "how can you expect me to..to..._tell someone? _My sisters..." he said "they'd get hurt,"

"King..._you're' _getting hurt," Hichigo said, sounding exasperated. Ichigo stopped. He...he was...but he was less important then his sisters.

"No. I can't risk my sisters," he said. He watched as the pale boy's face darkened.

"Fine. Fucking fine," he said, turning and walking in the opposite direction.

"Where are you going?" Ichigo asked, running to keep up with him.

"Home. Now fuck off, I can't deal with you right now," he said. Ichigo stopped, allowing the words to wash over him like a sickening wave. He felt cold.

He felt cold even as he walked into the house he occupied (it wasn't home). As he sidestepped Isshin's leaping hug. As he saw his sisters.

"Ichigo, my son! I have news,"

Ichigo sat down at the table, waiting for the man to speak.

"I shall be working at a clinic for the next week! To gain valuable experience!"

Ichigo furrowed his brow. Isshin had trained to become a doctor years ago, but following the death of his mother hadn't done anything with his qualifications. Did this mean he was thinking of?

"I'm thinking of opening a clinic," he said, his voice vaguely serious. Ichigo felt his brows shoot up.

"Seriously?" he said, thinking of what this could entail.

"Yes. But I'm going to gain some experience first before I do anything," he said, grin on face.

"Meaning I shall be leaving you my son next week!" he said. Ichigo felt his heart drop slightly.

"What?" he said. Isshin must of picked up on some of his bad vibes, so he quickly schooled his expression, keeping his panic locked down.

"It'll be fine though...Ayako will be living with you for the week, and I know how much you and the girls like her,"

Ichigo could have cried, he really could. Instead he kept his head down, blinking back the itching behind his eyes.

"I'm going to my room," he said, standing quickly and leaving the room, not looking as Isshin, instead trying to focus through the blur which covered his eyes. It was bad. It was really bad.

She hadn't been doing much recently. Isshin had been around a lot more (likely as he was planning 'his clinic'), so she'd had a lot less opportunities to taunt him. She'd still managed though, the bruise on the back of his leg proved that.

The day Isshin left he felt weak. There were butterflies racing through his stomach, and he could barely stop himself shaking as he gave the man a short wave. He was tense, just waiting for it to happen.

"There you are berry,"

He gulped as he walked into the kitchen, avoiding eye contact as she cut the meat. He began to boil himself a kettle, and he couldn't help but swivel his eyes to her, noticing the glint as she stared at the kettle. He had a sinking feeling that she'd burn him again, this time with boiled water, but she didn't. She merely watched as he poured the coffee. He left, drinking it in the hall. He didn't want her eyes staring at him the whole time.

Three days she did nothing. Three days in which Ichigo began to drop his guard slightly. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. He arrived back in from school. Hichigo hadn't been there again. He was probably still pissed at him.

"Your sisters are at a sleepover," Ichigo flinched at the sound of her voice. He turned to face her crazed expression.

"They didn't tell you?" she smirked. He shook his head sharply. Her smirk widened.

"Well, that's a shame berry," she said, walking through the hall "maybe they don't trust you. I mean, I wouldn't," she pointed to her self with her chewed fingers. Ichigo backed away until his back hit the wall. He felt caged.

"Berry, could you maybe help me in the kitchen?" she asked. Ichigo didn't move, his heart beating so loudly he was sure she'd hear. Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped forward, squeezing his arm in a vice like grip, and half dragging him into the kitchen.

"It's rude not to listen when people ask you to do things berry," she hissed, slamming him into the counter. He gasped as his mid-drift hit the wood, instinctively reaching round to grab himself.

"You know," she said. He watched as she made her way to the cupboard, grabbing something and shutting it "I noticed you've been drinking a lot of coffee recently," she made her way to the drawer, slicing it open and fisting her hand around a spoon.

She walked towards him.

"So I thought I'd help," she said, grinning slyly. Ichigo looked questioningly at the jar. It was the coffee jar, half full with granules.

"Here you go," she said, thrusting it into his hands, along with the sliver spoon. What was he supposed to do? Make coffee? There wasn't any water...

"Eat it,"

Ichigo visibly blanched. She wanted him to?

"All of it,"

He put the spoon into the jar, heaping a small amount onto the spoon. His hand shook. Had she put something in it?

He raised it to his mouth, pouring it onto his tongue, wincing as it crunched between his teeth. It was good in coffee. As granules it was sickly.

"Oh! Where are my manners?" he looked up, swallowing thickly, the dry mush scratching his throat. He hadn't drank since that morning, his throat was raw and unused.

"I forgot the sugar," she said, grabbing the jar, and heading to the drawers, taking out various packets. Ichigo watched as she poured the sugar in. And the salt. She mixed it once or twice before handing it back to him, looking thoughtful.

"You eat this. I'm going to get something. I want this much gone when I get back," she said, holding up her thumb and forefinger. Ichigo immediately began shoveling the concoction into his mouth, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes at the taste a texture. He coughed, his body wracking, but forced himself to swallow more. He knew what would happen should she come back and find he hadn't eaten it. When he'd eaten as much as she requested, he stopped, breathing heavily, his tongue raking across his mouth in an attempt to wet it.

He saw the tap. He'd been wary of the tap ever since she'd burnt his hand, but made his way over to it. He needed to drink or he'd choke.

"Stop,"

He froze. He turned.

"Did I say you could have a drink?"

He stepped away from the tap, but away from her.

"Give me the jar," she said. Ichigo did so, handing it over quickly from where he dropped it on the counter. He watched as she poured the strangely colored substance into the white and brown mix. Ichigo realized as she handed it back to him, the granules now moist.

"You need to clean your teeth berry," she said, grinning at the jar now flooded with mouthwash. As Ichigo held the spoon near his lips he tried to think back to lessons, anything where they could have mentioned whether or not mouthwash was poisonous.

"To slow berry,"

Ichigo had no time to register those words as suddenly his head was forced back and the mixture forced down his throat. He gagged immediately, but she rammed it back down, forcing him to swallow. Then it was gone, and he was leaning over, weak tears forcing their way out the corners of his eyes and he retched and gagged, the concoction forcing it way back up through his mouth, landing on the tiles with sickening splasheshaving burnt it's way past his chapped lips. He sat there, breathing heavily as the series of cramps overtook him, taking in several shuddering gasps as he finished.

"Didn't you like it berry?" she asked.

He did nothing, just leaned forward, one hand still on the floor, his breaths coming in short gasps. He felt his hair gripped, the strands threatening to break.

"I asked you a question,"

Ichigo tried to blink through the tears as he was suddenly thrown forward, his head hitting the floor. He nearly retched again at the smell of his vomit, now coating his hair from where he was flung forward.

He felt himself pulled up and shoved against the counter. His face was grabbed and he was forced to look into her eyes. She leaned forward, and Ichigo could see her nose crinkle at the stench.

"_You fucking reek," _she said, dragging him over to the sink and turning on the tap. Ichigo flinched, before realizing it was the cold tap. The relief didn't last however, as he was forced under the stream, his face and hair dampening, the vomit in his hair falling into the sink in chunks. He coughed as the water ran into his nose, but quickly swallowed what water he could, finding it soothing on his burning throat.

He was pulled out and straightened completely, and felt himself once more under her scrutinizing eye.

"You know berry," she began, poking her grubby finger against his face, turning it this way and that. Her finger rested on his lips.

"You're not bad looking,"

Ichigo felt his insides writhe at the thoughts he was having. What she was going to do. She leaned it...

_"You should sell your body," _

Ichigo opened his eyes as she let him go, feeling relief as she stepped back, a look of distaste on her face.

"The only way you'll earn any money," she sneered "you can be a whore. Just like your mother,"

Ichigo felt his hands clench, his teeth grit.

He saw stars. It was that quick .She hit him, right across the face. She hadn't done that in a while, it was normally places where you couldn't see. His head snapped back at the force of the blow, the stinging throbbing pain beginning as he slid down the counter.

"Clean this up," she said, gesturing to the pile of vomit. Ichigo made his way forward.

"With your shirt,"

Ichigo didn't question. He merely slipped the dampened shirt of his torso, cursing his weak body and began scrubbing the floor, feeling her eyes on his back the entire time.

She began to sing. Ichigo had to admit, she wasn't a bad singer, but the words that she sang twisted her voice to a high pitched squeal of white noise in his ears.

"_Ayako Kurosaki, Ayako Kurosaki, Ayako Kurosaki,"_

She was singing it like it was her name. Like she was...married to Isshin. Like...

Ichigo tuned it out as he scrubbed the floor, his hand and shirt fully saturated.

That wasn't the first time Ichigo heard of her obsession with Isshin. It was the most obvious though, and left no room for other options. He now knew what she wanted (even if it would never happen) and his nightmares were now plagued with her...and Isshin.

Throughout the week, Hichigo didn't show. And the woman got worse. He walk into the room to find her flicking through wedding magazines, gazing longingly at the pristine glossy covers. Ichigo hoped she knew she'd never look as pretty as those women.

Ichigo poured himself into exercise, going on runs that seemed to last for miles. Even after Isshin returned home, he withdrew into himself, feeling more pathetic as he replayed the scenes in his head. He did nothing. Did nothing to stop her.

He drank twice as much, needing the energy the coffee provided. The taste now made him want to gag, but he relied so much on the energy it provided that he drank it anyway.

Hichigo met him after school on the Friday. Ichigo didn't say anything, just waited for the other boy to speak.

"King...let's just forget it happened," he said, beginning to walk. Ichigo nodded. He wanted to forget it all.

"Did something happen?"

Ichigo turned to face the pale boy. There was an awkward silence during which he watched Hichigo attempt to hide his concerned expression. He'd seen it though, and suddenly felt a lot better. Some one did actually care about him.

He shook his head.

"Nothing much," he said. It was better lying, then telling the truth he decided. Even though he felt guilt stab him like a sharp sword for lying to his only friend. But he couldn't risk anything...he didn't want to risk anything.

_" I don't want to say anymore today,"_

_"That's okay Ichigo. You can continue next week,"_

_"Can you...can you turn it off?"_

_"The tape recorder?"_

_"...yeah,"_

Ichigo did as the Aizen on the tape did, stopping it and ejecting the tape. He swallowed, as if to reassure himself. Hearing it on the tape made him feel queasy, as he vividly remembered the taste of the granules. Safe to say he'd never used mouthwash since (and hated when his boyfriend used the stuff). Again there was that silence that Ichigo was used to. It happened every time he played a tape. He felt determined to break it.

"Grimm?" he asked, almost timidly. The man's grip round him had grown painful.

"What...what can I say?" the man asked, his voice sounding rough. Ichigo nearly winced, instead pulling the man closer. He didn't know how to answer.

"Fuck...Ichi. This... does this get worse?"

Ichigo would have done anything to say no. Paid anything. But it wouldn't have been the truth.

"Yes," he said, quietly.

"This...Hichigo. What happened to him?"

The one question Ichigo didn't want to answer. The one he wasn't prepared to fully answer.

"He...I...I don't know," he said, trailing off at the end.

"Is...is that why you hate me usin'...mouthwash,"

Ichigo nearly laughed. Of all the questions to ask, his boyfriend definitely didn't pick the most obvious of choices.

"Yeah. That's why I used to bitch at you for using it before attacking me with your mouth," Ichigo said, avoiding using the word 'kiss'. Grimmjow was always funny about that word for some reason.

"Shit, Ichi why didn't ye say somethin'?" his boyfriend said, sounding vaguely incredulous. Ichigo shrugged.

"What could I have said? I told you I hated it, I just didn't say why," he said. There was a silence that Ichigo was determined to fill.

"I'm gonna go cook something," he said, standing and stretching his arms slightly. His boyfriend stood even faster.

"No" he said. Ichigo narrowed his eyes.

"I can't not cook forever," he said pointedly. His boyfriend seemed at a loss, four lines already cemented into his hair, his fingers dragging through it.

"Yeah...but I wanted to cook tonight," he said, as if daring Ichigo to say otherwise.

"You hate cooking. And can't cook," Ichigo said deadpan. Grimmjow shrugged.

"You'll just have to tell me how then," he said, Ichigo breaking into a grin. He shoved his boyfriend into the kitchen, pushing the next tape to the back of his mind. The next tape which undoubtedly changed his life in ways he couldn't have imagined.

tbc.

Review? Was it okay? I'm slowly but surely upping the angst...no fear, she shall be dead soon enough. I really couldn't think of a decent chapter name...any suggestions?

Anyone want to guess how she dies? Like one big morbid quiz :D

Thankyou for reading and reviewing...If I haven't replied to a review I blame my internet...just know I'm very thankful.


End file.
